Uninvited
by littlebatgirl
Summary: Somebody is stalking Amelia West, Gotham's IT girl and childhood friend of Bruce Wayne. That person claims to be able to unlock the secrets of her terrifying past. Amelia is drawn into the Joker's grasp and learns she isnt the ony one who needs saving.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Newspaper clippings from the Gotham Tribune. Complied by Dr H. Quinzell. Napier Case.

The Mayer's Election Speech, City Hall.

"_**Gotham City will shine again.**_

_**Where once the rich only became richer and the poor were invisible, it feels as though the rightful balance has been restored and now we can look forward to a shining, hopeful new dawn that casts out all the evil and terror we have faced in the last ten years.**_

_**From the ashes of burned out homes and factories, rise new sky scrapers that touch the stars we long to reach. New jobs, new homes, bold, daring architecture, theatres, museums, restaurants will follow. We are rebuilding this city from within and although it will take years, we have something now that we have held from us for so long. We have our freedom.**_

_**No longer do we fear oppression from organised crime. No longer are we held hostage by a corrupt government. No longer will vigilantes and masked terrorists haunt our streets. We are free.**_

_**There were casualties. We lost good men and women in the fight. But they fought the good fight to give us the dream we hold so close to us today.**_

_**They gave us back our freedom, our lives and our hope.**_

_**And we thank them and look forward, to our bright new future,"**_

"**Billionaire Bruce Wayne builds new factories, opening up thousands of new jobs"**

"**Mayor Yarwood elected with a 76% majority, Gotham holds its breath. Will he deliver new hope as promised?"**

"**Batman blamed for office fires in down town Gotham,"**

"**Gotham citizens breathe a sigh of relief as clown faced murderer is finally locked away for good in Arkham Asylum. It was feared that 'The Joker' who rained terror over Gotham, would receive a shorter jail term after being declared 'insane'."**

"**Actress Siren West, aged fifty four, found dead in apartment, possible suicide,"**

"**Commissioner Gordon launches new investigations into the identity of the Batman,"**

Dr Quinzell stared down blankly at the vast array of newspaper clippings in front of her. She spread them out with her hand and wished a connection would make sense.

Her eyes ached from looking at her computer screen all day and the small of her back hurt from being hunched over. She had been sleeping well the last few nights, her mind anxious and unable to fully relax.

She had been preparing for this patient for two weeks and still she didn't know if there was anything she could do to make a difference.

Harleen shivered at the thought of returning to Arkham, that dank, grey building hiding a hundred secrets and deranged minds.

When she had been given the case, she was flattered and enthusiastic. It wasn't everyday that a young doctor, three years qualified would be given the chance to help one of the most dangerous criminals in the world. But the pressure soon began to mount and after the initial assessment meeting, Harleen doubted her skills.

This man was so lost. When he spoke, it was like he didn't care about himself at all. Something inside him had died and from the news reports and case files she'd read, this hadn't been something she was expecting.

Looking at his thin, pale form hunched across the table, she'd actually felt sorry for him. She wanted to help him.

A noise in the office startled her and she jumped, spotting the cleaner bustling through the door with his trolley. She laughed at herself, such a bag of nerves these days, as he lifted his hand and gave her a wave.

"Shouldn't you be at home now Doctor?" he accused her jokingly and she rubbed her eyes.

"I didn't realise the time Jo," she smiled shutting down her computer and gazing out at the darkening city sky line.

There was something about this man. Something that intrigued her and her natural curiosity took over.

But how on earth was all this related to Batman and a dead movie star? It sounded ridiculous and was something that she would have to piece together if she was ever going to save this man's mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

**One Month Earlier**

**What ever happened to Siren West?**

Amelia stared through the blacked out car window. The dogs had already sniffed out their next story. They waited patiently like soldiers waiting for their order to go over the top, their weapons loaded with film.

She sighed and pushed back a lock of blonde hair, pushing her sunglasses up her nose.

Ready to face the press, as always, Amelia West, stepped out of the car and a hundred flash lights went off in her face.

She avoided their cat calls, gripping her father's arm as they swiftly climbed the steps of the cathedral.

A film crew was stationed by the entrance of the holy building as they passed and she felt her father's grip around her waist tighten.

Safely inside they looked at each other and Amelia took off her glasses.

Abbott West took his daughter in his arms and held her tightly.

"It's alright my love," he whispered.

"Its not alright, it's a circus,"

He held her at arms length. "It's the media, honey; you knew it would be like this,"

Amelia rubbed her sore eyes. "Its more like a spectator sport, look at all these people here…"

Abbott smiled grimly, "Honey, some of these people _are _our friends, and they loved your mother as much as we did. We have to let them pay their respects,"

Amelia bit her tongue, not wanting to say the words he knew were dying to come out of her mouth.

Abbott West loved publicity and the media. The funeral of his once beautiful and famous ex wife was a huge opportunity for him and Amelia knew it.

Amelia had grown up with cameras forever in her face. And life now as an adult was no different, especially growing up into a living image of her beautiful Mother. Amelia could always guarantee that when she opened the front door on a Sunday morning, she would see herself on the front cover of whatever newspaper had landed on her mat that day. And usually the pictures were followed by unflattering headlines about the night she'd had, the amount she'd drank or the man who'd been with her. Amelia could come home stone cold sober some nights and the paparazzi could still manage to get a 'drunk' shot of her climbing out of a cab.

The classy, expensive funeral, fit for a monarch would make the headlines across the globe, drawing interest in West Enterprises, stocks would go through the roof.

Amelia walked arm in arm with him, inside the chapel and the heady fragrance of the lilies hit her, making her head spin.

She was burying her mother today. The thought made a huge lump clog in the throat and she covered her mouth with her hands.

The guests had already arrived and turned to look at them as they walked to the front. Keeping her eyes down, Abbott glided her into a pew and she sat awkwardly.

Her feet felt numb from the cold and her hands were like ice. On the alter the coffin was laid out, covered in beautiful, sweet avalanche roses, her mother's favourite.

Above the coffin, that was draped in white silk, was a beautifully shot photo, which had been taken about twenty years ago, when Siren West was a star, before the accident.

Amelia shivered at the memory, the distant thought of it never really surfacing, years of therapy responsible for keeping it locked, hidden away, like in a secluded cell at Arkham.

The last week had been a constant reminder of the accident for Amelia. It was her Mother's once perfect face; staring out at her from the various TVs she'd passed. The perfect, smile beaming at her, hope beaming in her blue eyes.

Siren West had not looked like that in a long time.

When Amelia was reminded of the accident, she didn't think of what happened to her Mother. She didn't think of the blood, or hear the screams. She just remembered the music. Soft music, a gentle guitar. It was a happy song, a famous song, but what it was, she couldn't say. Because that was the only time she ever heard it.

She remembered little of went on before the accident, except that she danced once, like a ballerina. She danced to that song.

A warm, gloved hand closing around hers broke her thoughts and her eyes snapped open.

She looked at the man sitting next to her and she smiled warmly.

"Bruce!" she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, "You came,"

"You thought I wouldn't? I couldn't leave you to the wolves,"

She kissed his cold face. "I just want to disappear," she confessed.

He smiled grimly. "I know that feeling,"

She squeezed his hand tightly, her thoughts turning to Rachel. It had only been six months.

"Thank you for coming," she said, grateful for his presence. Bruce Wayne was one of her oldest friends, as Rachel Dawes had been. They had grown up together and she was reminded of endless summer nights at Bruce's home, when they had been teenagers, playing games as children. Although Rachel had been Bruce's childhood sweetheart, he and Amelia had shared a special bond; they both had grown up in the shadow of rich and famous parents.

Amelia looked upon Bruce as an older brother, never once thinking of him romantically, despite how he constantly insisted she had always been in love with him.

The funeral began and Amelia was in hell. She blocked out most of the priests sermon, her own thoughts plaguing her. Despite Bruce on one side and her father on the other and being buffeted by their warmth, she was frozen, shivering from head to toe.

When the pall bearers lifted the coffin, some of the roses fell softly to the ground and Amelia covered her eyes. She couldn't watch them take her Mother away to be put underground. It was like they were covering up a secret. Burying it deep to keep it quiet.

Finally the madness of Siren West would be silenced.

Abbot stood to follow the coffin and motioned that Amelia should stand with him, but she was locked tight.

Bruce met Abbott's eyes. "I'll stay with her," he said.

As the congregation followed the coffin out of the cathedral, Amelia finally let go, she began to sob, collapsing in Bruce's arms.

"I'm going to take you away," he whispered into her hair, "You can't stay here,"

She sat up and met his dark eyes.

"Where can I go?" she replied, "I need to work, to keep going,"

"What does your therapist say?"

Amelia laughed despite her tears. "How'd you know about my therapist?"

"You've been seeing one since you were thirteen,"

"Well, yes, on and off," she admitted, "But to be honest since mom died, I stopped going. I've spent thousands trying to forget what happened to us that night…what happened to her, but I never really had to live with it like she did. Everyday…when she looked at her face…"

Amelia swallowed and locked eyes with the woman in the photograph on the alter.

"That wasn't my mother. You know how I remember my mom? In a hospital gown, after yet _another_ round of painful, useless cosmetic surgery. She had her whole life taken from her that night, everything that has led to this, was caused by those events. And no amount of therapy can suppress that. I guess she just couldn't live with her reflection anymore,"

They were silent for a while, holding hands tightly. If anyone knew how she felt, it was him. He was still a child when his parents were taken from him.

Taking her hand in his, they stood, the sound of Amelia's heels on the cold stone floor echoing around them.

"Think it'll be over now?" she whispered hugging her arms around her for comfort.

"I think so, why don't you come back to my place and I'll get Alfred to make you those awful syrup waffles that you practically begged for every time you came to my house?"

At that Amelia laughed. "I miss him, how is he?"

"Crotchety as ever, he sends his love,"

"I got the flowers, he sent; tell him I love him too,"

Bending, they gathered the roses that had fallen from the coffin; they were far too beautiful to be left to die on the church floor.

Taking them in his arms, Bruce looked at her closely. Her beautiful face was so drawn and tired that he could have cried for her.

"How's life over at the Gotham Tribune?" he jibed, "Got your own column yet?"

Amelia shook her head. "It's hard to work for a paper that you're nearly always on the cover of. It's been hell this last two weeks. I can see them looking at me, like I don't belong there…maybe I don't?"

"That's rubbish, you're a great writer!"

"But they all know that 'daddy' pulled in quite a few favours to get me in there. I haven't made any real friends. It can be a lonely place,"

"Then why don't you leave? Find something better?"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Because then I'll have to add that to my list of careers to tick off my list. Law, tick. Medicine, tick. Journalism, tick. I have to make _something _work Bruce,"

They both stayed quiet but they could both guess what each other were thinking.

They were remembering a time when they played games in Bruce's family garden. He was always the hero. Rachel was always stuck in the role of the villain, the masked robber or the old witch and Amelia always had to be the princess in the tower, the typical damsel in distress. Then as they got older, it was Rachel and Bruce studying for exams, whilst Amelia distracted them with her singing and dancing, begging them to shut their books and come and dance with her.

Bruce watched her slender figure as she walked out of the church door, roses piled in her arms.

Out of the doorway, he could see cars pulling up in the snow. He watched her father, Abbott West, pulling on his gloves, motioning her over.

Amelia turned back to him and slipped her glasses over her dark ringed eyes. She smiled lovingly at him and she looked so much like her mother.

"We both know I was only ever meant to be a ballerina, Bruce," she said sadly, "Except, now I have forgotten how to dance,"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two**

**The Ballerina and the Brave Tin Soldier**

The guitar was playing again in Amelia's dream. She woke up, her body jolting abruptly. She could still hear the tune playing. Closing her eyes in the dark, she calmed her breathing and the music disappeared, like a clearing mist.

Glancing to her left she saw that the clock was flashing 3.30am at her, and she groaned, knowing in a few hours she had to be up and on the subway.

Why did her head still feel like it was spinning?

Spinning. Amelia suddenly shook her head. It was like when you remembered a piece of a dream and your desperately scrabbling bits of a puzzle together to make a whole, except she knew this wasn't a dream, it was a memory.

Spinning. Spinning around. Her dress flying around her.

No being spun, someone was spinning her around. She was dancing, but not alone.

This was a first. She felt like she had uncovered a piece of a memory.

After the accident, the doctors said that Amelia, then only thirteen years old had gone into trauma. What she had witnessed had been so dramatic that her system couldn't handle it and she shut down. For three months she didn't speak.

Her parents at that time still married, opted to put her into a hospital temporarily and for the next fifth teen years, Amelia underwent so many different types of therapy that at times she was unsure what was real and what wasn't. She didn't know what she had imagined and what doctors had implanted there in her mind.

Some doctors tried to coax the information from her, others tried to suppress it, until at the age of twenty five and still no wiser, Amelia called a halt and tried to get on with her life.

Now swiftly approaching her thirties, Amelia only turned to counselling if she really needed help, a place to go and let off steam, she hadn't acquired many friends over the years. After loosing Rachel and then her Mother's suicide, it was like the combined trauma was causing 'things' to come back to her, pieces of memory like fragmented glass, such as the guitar, and now this.

If Amelia was to search the internet on details of the accident fifteen years ago, she would find the basic story that was known world wide.

On Halloween night 1993 a well known and wanted serial killer, Harold Napier broke into the home of film actress Siren West and her husband Abbott West and held the star and her then thirteen year old daughter hostage for three whole days. He was demanding three million dollars for their release, but what he hadn't bargained for was Abbott's policy of zero tolerance and he refused to pay the money, leaving his wife and daughter in incredible danger. What went on in the apartment for those three days, very little was known except in the end it finished brutally, with Napier shot dead and Siren viscously attacked, her face carved and butchered.

Abbott West made no apology not paying the money, he was not a man to be crossed and felt that by giving Napier what he wanted he was in turn funding more terror in the future. He also claimed after much public criticism that the whole time the Gotham police urged him not to give in as they believed Napier had already killed the women.

The details of the hostage situation, over the years had become the subject of a great amount of speculation as of course, no body was talking. Napier was dead, Siren virtually had become a recluse and Amelia didn't remember.

There were hundreds of web sites dedicated to discussing possible theories. Some people believed that Siren killed Napier with his own gun; others thought that it had been Amelia and she had blocked it out.

Amelia swung her legs over the side of the bed, knowing now that sleep would never come. She was hot and padded bare foot to the kitchen, the tiles cool on her feet.

She took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with cold water, drinking it down greedily, suddenly very thirsty.

Walking swiftly back down the corridor to her bedroom, she stopped abruptly in the darkened hall, staring at the front door. There was a thin, flat parcel on her door mat.

Amelia froze to the spot, her legs suddenly like lead, and the water tumbler trembling in her hand.

Her apartment was on the thirty second floor. She didn't have deliveries; they were left in a locked mail box downstairs. And yet there it was, sitting there waiting for her.

Swallowing hard, she lunged for the switch on the wall and the hall way was immersed in bright light. She ran to the bedroom and scrambled for her gun in her bedside cabinet.

Shaking she reached for her mobile phone and was relieved when the warm familiar voice answered.

"Bruce…someone's been in here" she babbled down the phone.

"Have you got a gun?"

"Yes,"

"Then lock yourself in somewhere and don't move till I get there,"

"How will you get in?" she asked turning on every light she could, making her way to the bathroom.

"I'll get in, don't worry about that,"

A fast twenty minutes later, that to Amelia locked in her bathroom felt like a life time and Bruce was in her apartment.

Still trembling, Amelia was on the couch, sipping water and staring down at the crudely wrapped package.

"I've checked every where and it looks like there was a forced entry on your front door, it was so smooth that you wouldn't have heard it. Some one knew what they were doing alright,"

"Oh Bruce…don't say that!" still in her pyjamas, Amelia hugged him tightly.

"Have you called your father?" he asked, his face grey with worry, he sat down beside her on the couch.

"No,"

"Then you'll come to my house, pack some clothes now and we'll go,"

Not bothering to argue, Amelia grabbed a few clothes and her lap top. Ten minutes later they were out the door at in Bruce's Aston Martin.

"Have you opened it?" he asked gesturing to the parcel that Amelia was still holding tightly.

"I thought we could do it at your house?" she said quietly and Bruce nodded, taking a back road that plunged them into a forest and out of the city limits.

Wayne Manor rose out of the mist and Amelia felt a comfort from seeing it standing proudly there, it had just been newly rebuilt after the fire there last year.

"It's still a beautiful home," she whispered as Bruce pulled her up at the front door.

There was a light shining from inside and the door opened.

A much older, grey haired man stood in the doorway and he smiled warmly when he saw her.

Amelia beamed and jumped out of the car.

"Alfred!" she flew into his out stretched arms, "It's so good to see you,"

"And you Miss," he hugged her tightly, "But not under these circumstances. Are you alright?"

"Yes," she breathed, "Nobody hurt me but someone got in to my home. We haven't opened the parcel yet,"

Bruce joined them in the warm hallway and he put his hand on Amelia's shoulder.

"Alfred, would you get Miss West a drink while we look at this thing?"

"Very good sir, I'll put Miss West's belongings in the Rose suite sir,"

Amelia followed Bruce into a large wood panelled room, lined with famous, beautiful paintings. There was a large open fire and Amelia took a seat near it, still freezing from being in her night clothes.

Bruce hadn't said anything but there was something familiar about the way the package was wrapped and especially the writing on the front. It was written in large childish handwriting, stating simply 'For Miss West'.

It wasn't until Alfred came in with a large tray of tea and biscuits that they realised that they had both been staring at the package, lost in their own thoughts.

"Let's do it," Bruce said and Amelia reached for it.

She tore open the paper and was surprised at what she found.

It was a book.

"It's a children's book," she said slowly, "Look, I recognise it…."

"The Brave Tin Soldier," Alfred said, looming above them, he had gingerly watched them open it.

"I know that story," Bruce said, "Its sad,"

But Amelia said nothing. She was too busy with the note that had been left tapped to the inside of the packaging.

Shakily she read it to them, it was written in the same scrawled hand writing.

"**Miss West, Do you remember how to dance? J,"**

Bruce looked at Amelia, who was far too immersed in the note to see the worried glance he exchanged with Alfred.

"J?" Amelia said more to herself.

Alfred sat beside them. "Does the book mean anything to you Miss?"

She shook her head. "I think I know the story, but it was a long time ago..."

"Its quite a famous children's story, there are lots of different versions, I'm surprised if you haven't heard it," Bruce said, "A tin soldier, imperfect, with only one leg because the toy maker didn't have enough tin to make him one, he falls in love with a beautiful ballerina, but the wizard causes him to fall from the nursery window. He goes though all kinds of obstacles to make it back to her, and when he does, the wizard makes the wind to blow strong, knocking him into the fire. But the ballerina jumps him after him and they melt, together at last,"

"Wait!" Amelia jumped, "Ballerina…."

Something was pricking, a memory, like a shaft of light breaking through a dark tunnel.

"What is it?" Bruce said urgently.

"Ballerina….that's got to mean _me_….spinning….dancing….dammit!" she whacked the couch arm with her hand in frustration, "What does this mean?"

"Only you know that Miss," Alfred said, patting her shoulder, "I'll get you some tea,"

"Someone wants me to remember the accident?" Amelia said suddenly cold, "But everything is so dark. This story, it's so familiar…I know I have read it, but I can't remember…"

"Did one of your parents read it to you?" Bruce asked as Alfred placed a china cup on the coffee table in front of him.

"No, I read it to someone; I can remember reading it aloud," She shook her head, "Maybe in school or something?"

Bruce poured her some tea and took her hand in his.

"You're freezing, you need to sleep,"

Amelia turned the book over in her hands, willing memories to the surface.

"I'll never get to sleep, now," she whispered but Bruce smiled to himself knowing that soon the effects of Alfred's special 'tea' would soon be having. He needed Amelia to be out like a light.

It was pretty quiet out here and the house made noises at night, which could leave her even more awake and curious.

Only a few minutes later, Bruce was carrying Amelia upstairs to the Rose Suite, where Alfred was waiting to turn back the bed.

Shutting the door quietly after them, they exchanged worried looks.

"It can't be who you suspect Master Wayne," Alfred said quietly as they headed for the hidden lift at the end of the first floor corridor.

Closing the heavy wooden panel behind them, the lift glided smoothly downwards until they could both smell the mist in the air and damp, cold air wafted up to greet them.

The cave was dark, but with a flick of a switch it was illuminated, the giant array of technology whirring to life. Bruce had access to every security camera in Gotham. He could listen to every communication between the Gotham Police force.

He sat numbly at his desk and tapped in the code for the security system at Arkham.

Immediately twelve images appeared before him, various sections of the hospital he liked to have monitored. Some of them were the holding cells. He rotated the camera to the cell he was most intrigued with.

And there he was. Bruce had to suppress a shiver when he looked at the figure curled up in the bottom left hand corner of the cell.

"He hasn't gone anywhere Master Bruce," Alfred said, standing beside him, "What makes you think that he would have anything to do with Amelia?"

"A bad feeling Alfred. I hate them, don't you? But there not often unwarranted,"

"How can Miss West have anything to do with The Joker, sir? We know nothing about him,"

"Exactly," Bruce said narrowing his eyes at the monster on the film, "We don't know anything about this man. We don't know his past, where he was born, who his family was. So really, he could have _everything _to do with Amelia,"

"Or this is another one of his games sir? But how could he have gotten the book out?"

"One of his goons could have easily arranged that. We'll know when we check the DNA on the note. Don't forget that this guy is always ten steps ahead of us. He'll want Amelia to know it was him, it wouldn't be as much fun for him otherwise,"

"So you're saying he wants to be caught?"

"Of course…look at what happened the night Harvey was taken and Rachel…" he trailed off not wanting to say the words 'when Rachel died'.

"The point is Alfred, he wanted me there and he planned the whole thing, it was all a game. That's the thing about the Joker, you're in his game and playing for your life before you've even begun,"

The camera in the Joker's cell shifted, motion sensitive. It made a noise and when Bruce and Alfred looked back at the screen the Joker was standing in the middle of the room, staring soullessly up at the camera. He grinned at them, almost as if he knew they were watching.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three**

**Riddle me this**

The office was quiet and darkened and Jim Gordon asked himself why he was here, yet again at this ungodly hour.

The answer was he couldn't sleep. He hadn't slept soundly in six months, since taking the job of Commissioner of Gotham Police Force.

Another masked psychopath was terrorising Gotham. But unlike the brutality of the Joker, this man seemed more sedate; he enjoyed the material pleasures in life, like diamonds and wads of cash that didn't belong to him. He called himself 'The Riddler', Gordon guessed because of the fact that he had a fondness for leaving little notes, little clues at his most recent crime scenes. Little puzzles to make the mind work. Gordon was tired of clown killers and masked geniuses. Gotham was turning into a three ringed circus and yet their new Mayor was claiming that the city was crawling out of the pit of despair it had been engulfed in for so long.

This last one had Gordon awake at all hours. His family hadn't seen him properly in weeks. And he had come so close to loosing them, as if he hadn't lost enough already.

His work colleagues didn't look at him the same way any more. He wasn't one of them.

He had lost two of his most trusted detectives, Woods and Ramirez, people he had trusted implicitly and vouched for, the whole time they were working with the mob.

Ramirez's deceit had cost Rachel Dawes her life and Harvey Dent his sanity.

Gordon was suddenly aware of how cold it was in his office and rubbing his arms he turned, alarmed to see an open window behind him.

Jumping to his feet, his hand automatically reaching for the gun in his desk draw, he turned and cried out at the figure stood before him in the shadows.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he released the gun and stared at the dark figure.

"Working late?" came the gruff voice and Gordon ran a hand through his hair nervously.

He trusted Batman, but still the sight of him, his very presence set him on edge.

"Call it an early start," Jim replied, "I wasn't expecting you…but then whoever is? We haven't seen you in a while,"

"That was the idea wasn't it?" Batman replied his voice low as he stepped from the shadows, his eyes two black holes in the mask.

"It wasn't an idea I liked, but I accept your reasons. You're being blamed for everything from missing cats to factory fires in Basin City,"

"Harvey had to remain the hero…we couldn't let Gotham find out how easily the Joker turned him…that he had won,"

Gordon stared at the formidable man in front of him.

"So why are you here?" he asked, "I could use your help with something if you have time?"

"If you mean 'The Riddler, it hasn't gone unnoticed. But that isn't why I'm here,"

Batman stepped forward and took something from under the cloak around him. It was a childishly scribbled note. He placed it on Gordon's desk and he stared down at it.

"I need a DNA match on this note. I believe it came from the Joker's cell, he wrote it and had it hand delivered,"

Gordon frowned. "To who? The Joker has been locked away securely for the past six months,"

"I can't tell you who but I'm sure it's his writing. He wouldn't make a careless mistake like that; he wants us to know it's him,"

Gordon picked up the note carefully.

"I'll have a test run straight away. But your not giving me much to go on," he peered down at it and scanned it quickly, "Miss West? Would that be anything to do with Siren West?"

Batman stepped away, not wishing to reveal too much information at this point.

"Where were you when the West kidnapping happened?" he asked Gordon instead.

Gordon sighed. "Uhh…1993…I was a detective working downtown, but I knew the guy who ran the investigation, he died recently in a drugs bust,"

"Was there any information about that case that didn't reach the papers? Anything that wasn't disclosed?"

Gordon raised his eyebrows, sighing.

"It wouldn't have been information that would have been flung around like gossip. The West case was sensitive, because of the husband…he didn't like the fact that his wife was a famous actress and felt that the whole thing was her fault. There was a rumour that he never wanted to put up the ransom…in the end it was too late anyway,"

"Is there any way of getting that information? It's important,"

"I can talk with some guys I knew from back then,"

"Then do it, quickly and quietly,"

"How will I contact you? We destroyed the Bat signal," he called after him as he turned to leave.

"I'll be in touch,"

Then into the darkness he vanished, like he always did, leaving Gordon feeling prickly and unnerved.

He looked down at the note and sighed.

He preyed that Batman was wrong. The Joker had become a memory, hidden away in a cell. He wanted him to stay that way, as he feared he wouldn't live through it the next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

**The First Kiss**

Amelia awoke to find that she had her clothes pressed and waiting for her. She also found that Bruce had organised a driver to take her into work.

"What time shall we be expecting you home Miss West?" Alfred asked as she buttoned up her velvet green coat in the hall way.

"Oh, Alfred," she sighed, "I can't trespass on you both again! I'm a big girl and I'll be fine,"

Alfred frowned. "I think Master Wayne would disagree with you,"

"Yes, he would," she agreed, "I don't know what to do,"

"Well Master Wayne has made me swear not to let you leave without a promise you'll return home here tonight," he said sternly, "So I don't see you have much choice in the matter,"

"Fine!" she said laughing and giving Alfred a hug, "I finish at five,"

"I'll have those waffles ready, Miss" he said jovially and she flung a smile at him over her shoulder.

As a child she'd always loved staying with the Wayne family and even after Bruce had become an orphan, Alfred still managed to make the place feel like home, she always felt so safe there.

Amelia had the book firmly tucked into her bag. She had read and reread the story all morning, hoping she would get some glimmer of a memory.

The driver puller the Mercedes up to the giant skyscraper that was the Gotham News Tower, the head quarters of every newspaper and magazine in the city.

She ignored the usual stares she received when she climbed the steps hastily, pulling her coat tight around her.

Being gaped at was something she'd grown up with. Passers by used to stare at her beautiful mother when she was growing up, then after the kidnapping they looked for another reason. It wasn't long before Siren West stopped going out. Now it was her daughter they stared at.

Jumping into the lift she squeezed in besides Carla Olson, a photographer she knew vaguely. She was part of a paparazzi team and usually sold unflattering, frank shots of unwitting celebrities to the highest bidder.

The short dark haired women smiled thinly at her and Amelia forced a smile back.

When the lift stopped and it emptied the woman looked at her.

"So was that one of Bruce Wayne's cars I saw you arrive in just now?" she said boldly, as though they had known each other for years. The lift doors closed and continued upwards.

Amelia raised an eyebrow but she saw no reason to lie. Over the years she had been caught out so many times before with journalists.

"Yes," she replied simply, "I hear your…cousin; he's doing really well in Metropololiis isn't he? He's got a good job at the Planet?"

"Yes, he's the little star of the family," she ignored the attempt at a jibe, "So you're childhood sweethearts aren't you?"

Amelia laughed sadly, "No, you've got the wrong girl there. Bruce is one of my best friends,"

"That you regularly spend the night with?"

Amelia could feel her face growing hot. "You know it's really none of your business. But if you want to put it in your column go ahead, you have my permission. Just be prepared when Bruce slaps a law suit on you, he doesn't take kindly to slander,"

Carla Olson seemed to back off a little bit. She tucked her dark hair back behind her ears as the lift glided smoothly to her stop, the thirty fifth floor.

"The little princess has a nasty bite," she sniped, "Its too bad you cant put that fire into your writing, you might actually make a career out of it,"

Carla sauntered out of the lift and Amelia fought not to grab her by her hair. She bit her lip and tried not to think of the insult, knowing that the sentiment was true.

Finally, the lift reached the top of the building, the offices of the Gotham Tribune, the biggest and most widely read paper in the City.

Clutching her bag with the book still inside she walked swiftly to her office, closing the door behind her.

She looked at her in tray and groaned. There was a message about a meeting at ten.

Her day at work was about to start, but she had bigger things on her mind.

She took out the book and looked at its colourful front cover.

Had this belonged to her? She had a feeling that at one point it had.

She knew one thing. She was the ballerina. She had to be, it was too obvious.

But who was the tin soldier?

By lunch time she was exhausted and tired. She had spent the morning trawling the internet about the book's history, its author but came up with nothing.

She jumped when her office door opened and the sandwich guy, Tony popped his head around the door.

"I got your order Miss West," he smiled and she looked up puzzled, her tummy grumbling from hunger.

"I don't remember ordering but I'll have it anyway," she grinned and she took the package wrapped in greaseproof paper from him.

He waved goodbye as her phone beeped, the call from her boss, JJ Brooks, her formidable boss and her Father's good friend.

Amelia groaned inwardly, picking up the receiver.

"My office West, two minutes, I have an assignment for you,"

Normally a personal assignment from JJ was considered an honour but today it was an annoyance.

"Morning Princess," he said as she tapped on his office door, ten minutes later.

He stood up to greet her. He was a big, grey haired man and at times could be quite intimidating. But Amelia had known JJ all her life and had last seen him at her mother's funeral.

"How you holding up kid?" he hugged her tightly and she smiled.

"I'm fine…you know, just trying to get on with things," she replied, her set answer every time someone asked her how she was.

"It was awful what happened, she must have been in so much turmoil,"

Amelia nodded and folded her arms around her back, not wanting to get into this conversation right now. That was what therapy was for.

"Anyhow I have a job for you," he continued sensing her discomfort.

"Right, great!" she forced a smile, "What is it?"

"There is a doctor that has been working on a new kind of drug at Arkham," he began, "Its being hailed as a new type of wonder drug…its supposed to alter brain patterns to suppress rage,"

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "So he's starting to use it on Arkham patients?"

"If it works then it means that some of the most dangerous criminals locked up in there can be rehabilitated, that they can lead normal lives,"

Crossing her arms, Amelia perched on JJ's desk.

"Isn't that a bit like drugging a shark so that it won't bite you? I mean, some of them have done terrible things…you can't suppress those kind of tendencies,"

JJ wagged a finger at her knowingly.

"That's why I want you to go down there and talk to him, ask the questions Gotham will be asking," he folded his arms across his large chest, "This is a big assignment for you, Millie. There are other more experienced reporters that I could have given it to and believe me they wont be happy when they catch on,"

Amelia nodded. "So what you're saying is don't screw up?"

"No," he looked annoyed suddenly, "I'm saying you're good, believe it or not. And you've been standing still too long, even before your mother died,"

"So grab the ball and run with it?" she smiled, feeling very weak and tired, not needing the lecture right now.

She left his office in a daze. What the hell was the matter with her? The editor and chief of the biggest newspapers in the world just gave her a huge assignment, one that other reporters would be clawing at each other to get their hands on.

But she had other things on her mind.

Returning to her office, her tummy growled, remembering her sandwich.

Unwrapping it she turned her computer back on, the smell of bacon wafting up to greet her.

JJ had gotten her security clearance that afternoon for Arkham; he wanted her to be the first to interview the doctor, before other reporters from rival papers got on the scent.

Taking a bite of the sandwich she frowned as something slid from the greaseproof paper to the floor. She narrowed her eyes and looked down, her spare hand reaching for what looked like a playing card.

How had a playing card gotten into her sandwich wrapper?

Discarding her lunch, she turned the card over in her fingers, her stomach doing a leap. It was a Joker, staring up at her, with a wicked, mischievous grin on his face. Written in tiny scrawled handwriting next to him was a question.

'**Do you remember your first kiss?'**

Gasping, Amelia threw the card away from her, as if it burnt her fingers. Her heart pounding in her chest she fought down a wave of panic. She was also fighting the sudden urge to call Bruce.

She covered her eyes with her hands, willing her heart to slow to a steady pace.

The Joker was locked up in a padded cell in Arkham. He couldn't get to her from there. But she remembered with dread that he had been in police custody the night Rachel and Harvey died, but he was responsible for those murders.

She was supposed to be going to Arkham today! She was going straight to him.

Maybe this was all a ploy and the Joker had nothing to do with it at all? It could just be a copy cat?

She couldn't call Bruce, but there was one woman she could call.

Twenty minutes later, Amelia was sat in her therapist's office. Jenny Maddle had been seeing Amelia for two years. They had formed a close relationship, very close for doctor and patient, but Amelia trusted her implicitly.

The older woman was tall and thin, bordering on skeletal, with tiny arms and bony hands. Her red, often untidy hair was always pulled back tightly and small glasses sat pertly on her little nose.

Right now her blue eyes were studying the playing card, which Amelia had placed in a plastic wrapper in case she needed to hand it to the police.

"Do you think it's from him?" Amelia asked shivering, still wearing her velvet coat and scarf. She had rushed over the minute Jenny said she was free.

Jenny looked up at the lovely, fragile girl in the chair.

"I don't know Amelia," she replied, "I think you should give this to the police. First the book and now this…you may have a stalker,"

"But I'm not convinced it is stalking!" Amelia insisted, "It's like someone wants me to remember….I don't know…"

Jenny placed the card back on the coffee table, a little afraid to hold it for too long herself. She remembered only too well the hold the Joker had on the city; it was only six months ago.

"Well let's talk this through, then," she began, "The brave tin solider and the ballerina. What does that book mean to you?"

"I don't remember!" Amelia moaned in frustration.

"No, I mean the symbology. The ballerina for example is essentially beautiful and graceful. It's a symbol of, purity something untouchable…unattainable…could this be you? I mean you trained as a dancer when you were a child, it's a big coincidence,"

Amelia frowned. "I thought that it may be me but I hadn't looked at it like that!"

"So the Tin solider, imperfect, unfinished, will overcome all obstacles to get back to her…could this be someone in your life now? Someone you already know perhaps?"

Amelia shook her head, pain forming at her temples. She rubbed her eyes.

"The only man that I know like that is Bruce but he's defiantly not imperfect!"

"Have you and Bruce ever been romantically involved? Was he your first kiss?"

Amelia laughed. "No, and no again!"

"Why is that funny?"

"Cause its Bruce. And he's like my older brother; we've never even looked at each other that way,"

"Ok well forget that if you're sure…so that only leaves me to ask…do you remember your first kiss?"

Amelia hugged her arms around her for comfort. She remembered being sixteen and kissing Adam Taylor after Drama club. She remembered falling off her bike when she was on holiday with her father in Switzerland and the boy who picked her up…but she was fifth teen then.

But those weren't her first. She was certain.

"The question, lets say it's a stalker, not the Joker, asks you is 'Do'. It's like he's implying that you may not remember. Like he knows you don't remember,"

Amelia nodded. "So _he_ knows about what happened to me and my mother that night?"

Jenny agreed. "He wants you to remember,"

"But the Joker has _nothing_ to do with that night! He wasn't there, I mean I have seen pictures of Harold Napier and he was a forty year old man back then, which means if he were still alive he'd be nearing his sixties now. The Joker isn't that old,"

"What do you know about the Joker?"

Amelia shrugged. "Only what everyone else knows. Murderer, psycho, no name, no past…"

"That's interesting, no past. Everyone has a past, even The Joker. He wasn't born that way; he started off just the same as you. The fact that he has no known identity, no history, means he could have come from anywhere. And he could have everything to do with you,"

"Don't say that," Amelia rubbed her arms, "I have to go, I'm sorry to cut our time short,"

Jenny studied her with worried eyes. "Promise me you'll stay put at Wayne Manor,"

Amelia hugged her tightly. "I promise,"

Jenny watched her leave and hung her head sadly, the weight of her betrayl washing over her. She had prayed that Amelia wouldn't come to her again.

Jenny picked up her office phone and dialled the number she had come to know very well.

Her stomach churned at the very thought of what she was doing.

When the voice answered at the other end she fought back tears.

"She's coming," she whispered, "Now tell him to _please_ leave me alone,"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Hi everyone, I'm new to this so this is why I've just gotten around to writing this note! Hope you're enjoying so far and thank you to anyone who has already read and reviewed, it means a lot!! You will be seeing the Joker in the Chapter after this, I promise! I hope you like my version of him, it was fun to write and I really tried to keep him in character. But any thoughts are welcome and would love to hear what you think. I'm writing this for myself and have had such a good time doing it, although I'm nervous as I have read a lot of Batman fan fiction and the standard is HIGH so I hope I live up to you all. Thanks again for looking xx**

**Ps I own none of these characters, just Amelia**.

**Remember Me**

Bruce sat quietly, the noises from the cave echoing all around him. The sound of the water crashing on the rocks under the south east corner of the house, soothed his thoughts and he closed his eyes.

He had received word from Gordon that the DNA evidence on the note did in fact belong to the Joker, though how he had written it and gotten it out was a mystery to him.

The question plaguing Bruce was what did the Joker have to do with Amelia and her family.

Talking to Gordon had highlighted an interesting point.

"I talked to one of my old friends who worked the West case in '93. The one thing that kept coming up was the other set of prints on the gun and all over the house,"

"What other prints?" Batman asked.

"In the end they had to drop the lead because it was going nowhere. But there were four sets of prints found in the house. Siren West, Amelia, Harold Napier and someone else. But the night Napier died; only three of them were there in the apartment and when questioned they all denied the existence of another person being there,"

"Where exactly were the prints?"

"Everywhere apparently," Gordon replied, "But especially in the girl's bedroom, over the toys, the books…"

"Books?" Batman breathed, "Children's books?"

"Well, yes,"

"Why were they covering up?"

Gordon sighed at the other end of the phone.

"My buddy said that they were convinced they were protecting someone. Somebody else was in that apartment with them for the duration of the kidnapping, but they sure as hell disappeared,"

"I need to have everything you've got on Harold Napier; I need the security code to the protected files at the data base,"

"That's my job you're risking Batman,"

"I'm sure you're discreet commissioner," he replied gruffly, "But someone is in danger and I need to know what I'm dealing with,"

"Alright," he gave in wearily, "I know you won't break confidences but I'm telling you that I'm having Amelia West's apartment watched. But she hasn't been home,"

"She's with a friend," Batman replied, "But let me know if you see anything,"

Bruce waited patiently for Gordon to email him the access code on the secure line.

Alfred's foot steps on the stone, distracted him and he looked away from the computer. Alfred, never empty handed, placed a tea tray down beside Bruce and narrowed his eyes at the information downloading on the computer screen.

"You want information on Harold Napier, sir?"

"I need to know everything about what happened that night, Amelia is in danger, I'm sure of it,"

Alfred poured Bruce a hot tea, his hands cold and stiff from the damp in the cave.

"Sir, I think we may have a problem," he said quietly.

Bruce turned and stared at him in alarm. "Alfred? What is it?"

"I received a call ten minutes ago from Fredrick Lamb, the gentleman you hired to drive Miss West home today. She called him from her office and said not to bother to wait for her as she had an assignment and would make her own way home,"

Bruce was on his feet. "Where did she go Alfred?"

"Arkham Asylum Master Wayne," he said, "She left over an hour ago, but Lamb only just called it in,"

"I'm going after her," Bruce unbuttoned his shirt, yanking it off hastily, "Something is going on and it's to do with the Joker. She's going right to him,"

Amelia stepped out of the car nervously. The sky above was thick with fresh new snow, threatening to come down over the dull, dirty building.

Arkham was situated just eight miles out of the city limits, but it felt so silent out here, like it was in a quiet, eerie world of its own.

Looking over her shoulder she watched the huge iron gates, electric powered, swing closed with a heavy groan. She smoothed out her blonde hair and went to the large metal front door.

From the outside the building appeared to be like a giant prison, like Alcatraz, an invisible aura floating around it. It was like dread.

Amelia thought that must be what the patients felt as they travelled up the long private dirt road to Arkham. Dread. Dread at what they would find waiting for them inside.

The security guard glanced up as Amelia approached the desk, holding out her security badge.

She wrinkled up her nose in distaste. It smelt like disinfectant and dirty water.

"I have an appointment with Doctor Lye," she said, trying to make herself sound more calm than she felt.

"He's expecting you, Miss West," the guard told her, "Take the elevator to the sixth floor, get out and go right. His office is two doors down,"

Amelia nodded and walked to the lift, feeling the guard's eyes on her as she turned. She felt him watching as she pushed the button for the lift and waited for it to come. Impatient and nervous, she threw a look over her shoulder and caught him staring.

Finally it came and opened with a groan. It creaked noisily all the way to the sixth floor. When the doors open, she cried out at the figure waiting for her.

She laughed when the doctor in the long white coat gave a mock cry of surprise.

He was tall, thin and bald, his steel blue eyes a little unnerving.

"Uhh, Miss West?" he said, "I'm Doctor Lye,"

"Sorry about that," she smiled, stepping out of the lift, "Guess I'm a bit jumpy,"

"Hmm, yes Arkham has that effect on most people," he told her, "But thank you for coming, you're editor was quite insistent that we keep this little meeting between us for the time being. But I plan to go public very soon,"

Feeling more settled, Amelia followed him down the corridor.

"It's a bold claim you're making, but I wonder at its ethical connotations?" she said.

"Wow you get right to the point doesn't you?" he smiled at her, "I thought you might like to have a bit of a tour before we talk shop?"

Amelia shivered. "That would be great,"

"I suppose its best to start at the bottom and work our way back up again," he said glancing at her sideways as he pressed the button for the lift.

"How many patients do you have here?" she asked.

"We are a relatively small number at the moment; we have eighty currently in residence,"

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "Eighty seems like a lot! And yet it's so quiet,"

He smiled more to himself, opened his mouth to speak and then obviously decided not to say what he was thinking and Amelia tried to ignore this as they climbed into the elevator again.

The doors closed and she turned to him. "You say residence like the patients stay here out of choice, but I understand that some of these people are very dangerous, ex criminals?"

He folded his arms behind his back.

"You would be right Miss West. We have some of the most dangerous members of the Falcone gang in here, including Falcone himself,"

"But you don't believe that they are all insane do you?" she laughed, "I mean most of them use it as a get out clause don't they?"

Doctor Lye looked at her seriously.

"I'm well aware of the damage my predecessor, Doctor Crane caused to the reputation of this establishment Miss West. But I believe that Arkham hosts some seriously ill people and I won't toss them aside. I believe they can be rehabilitated!"

The elevator crunched to a halt at what felt like the lower ground floor and that disinfectant smell was worse than ever.

Amelia swallowed. "Even the Joker?"

Was it her imagination or did the doctor flinch ever so slightly at that name?

"He…is the worst of all….and yes; I believe he _will_ lead a normal life, once he accepts the help he needs,"

"So," she said quietly, "Do you actually know anything about him? Have you learnt anything?"

The doors opened. "At present, he refuses the help we offer,"

"But he's been here six months…do you plan to test the new medication on him?"

Amelia followed the doctor out of the elevator and they were in a long, dimly lit corridor. The walls were white washed, but filthy, like a thousand dirty hands had run the length of them. There was a quiet hum, mainly from the generator and Amelia once again smelt that horrible smell.

As they passed through the corridor, they passed rooms, all of which were brightly lit up.

"Is this where….?"

"Yes Miss West, this is where our patients stay," he answered and Amelia realised he hadn't answered her previous question about the Joker.

She peered into one of the cells. It had a bed squeezed into one corner and a crude toilet in the other. On the floor was a tray, full of food that hadn't been touched. Stretched out on the bed was a young woman in a long white hospital gown. She was staring aimlessly at the ceiling, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

Amelia backed away in disgust, feeling revolted at the sight.

"What's at the end of this corridor?" she asked, following Doctor Lye.

"We call it the Rec Room. Its where some of our more agile and trusted patients are able to socialise. It has a basket ball court and a pool table,"

"You say patients Doctor, but I can't help but feeling like this isn't a hospital. These people are like prisoners,"

They reached a large double door, which was bolted from the outside. He took a key from his lab coat and slid it into the lock. With a crunch the door opened.

"You're right Miss West. They're prisoners of their own minds. In some cases, all we can do is stop them from hurting themselves…wont you go in?"

She looked up startled as he motioned she should step inside the darkened room.

Without thinking she stepped across the threshold, but then stopped, chills running up her spine.

"Doctor…its dark, wont you turn on the lights?"

She yelped, feeling his hands grip her upper arms. With all his strength he pushed her forward into the dark space, but he heard his whisper urgently.

"I'm sorry Miss West…he said he would hurt my son,"

She screamed as her knees hit the ground with a crack and she heard the larges metal doors swing shut behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here we go, the Joker chapter. I hope you guys like him, I've tried to keep him in character as much as possible. There's more to come from him and some back story. Please keep reading and let me know if you like, or not. Thanks xx**

**A Dancing Clown**

Rolling over, Amelia was in complete darkness. Panic rose in her throat and she scolded herself at how stupid she'd been. Why hadn't she seen this coming?

The floor was smooth, indeed just like a basketball court and she shakily stood, pain exploding in her left leg, her hands flying in front of her. She hoped that any minute her eyes would adjust, but she had no idea where she was or how big the room was.

Amelia collapsed back down on the floor, her knee aching and she tried desperately not to cry. She reached out and felt the floor around her with her palms, knowing that her hand bag had gone skidding off somewhere when Doctor Lye had pushed her into this room.

What did they want with her? Had this all been a ploy from the beginning?

The thought that JJ, might have had something to do with this sickened her, but she realised, he must have known when he sent her here.

Her breathing had escalated and she realised that any minute she would pass out if she carried on that way, so she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to take deep, calming breaths.

There was a noise. It was momentary but she'd heard it. A _click._

Then there was the guitar. A soft, gentle beginning to a song she knew, drifting across the darkened room towards her.

"What the hell is this?" she whispered, a tear running down her cheek.

That music! It was the music from her dream. But it wasn't a dream, she had heard it once before.

The guitar intro became a song, a song she knew well.

She gasped as somebody touched her hands, feeling the warmth of another person close to her. She could hear them breathing. She must have been so distracted with her own thoughts, she hadn't heard them approach.

"What do you want?" she screamed, the panic in her own voice startling her as she snatched her hands away. She was crying now.

The stranger took her hands again but this time held them with a vice like grip, and pulled her to her feet.

She stumbled forward and felt the hands go around her waist supporting her as she cried out; she felt the stranger's body press into hers.

"What do you want?" she repeated, as the hands glided up her arms and held her there.

She felt warm breath on her neck as the stranger leaned towards her ear.

"I just want to dance, pretty ballerina,"

Oh, God why did she recognise that voice?

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt him run his hands back down her arms to her freezing cold hands. His were warm and he walked her forwards in time with the music.

He let go of one of her hands and then she was being twirled around. She gasped in shock, going dizzy but then he caught her around the waist again, pulling her against him.

They were dancing, she realised in amazement. Here in this big empty room, in total darkness, with this strange, familiar music. Without realising it had even happened and despite the pain in her knee, her feet were moving in time with the song. He was leading her and when he turned, she followed; when he spun her around she let him.

Then when he took her by the waist, taking her full weight, he bent her backwards and she trusted him.

He held her under her arms and lifted her up, spinning her around. When he brought her back down, she slid down his body.

Her eyes were adjusting now and she could make out his figure in the dark.

"Stop!" she cried pulling away and to her surprise he let her go, she stumbled backwards and fell again.

Wincing she tried to stand. "Where are you?"

"Right where you left me princess,"

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"So many questions Ballerina! Why are you doing this? Who are you? Where are you? Which one shall I answer first?"

"Turn the lights on!" she screamed, now scared and tired. She wondered why he kept calling her ballerina. It sounded strangely familiar.

The room was flooded with bright, florescent light and she hid her eyes from the brightness with her hands.

Her heart pounding she stared at the figure in front of her. It was a figure she'd come to recognise from press photos and the television.

He was taller than she'd imagined, but then press photos were always slightly off. He stood gazing at her, hands clasped in front of him. He was thin almost wiry, but compact, wearing that odd outfit she'd seen in pictures, the green neck tie, purple shirt and trousers, sleeves rolled up high. Her eyes met his and she realised she was gawping. The makeup had been crudely smeared on with his fingers, a quick, careless job, leaving white marks trailing down his neck. His eyes were just black, endless holes, and the smile was garish and evil, spreading up his cheeks like a demented grin.

"You're…you're the joker,"

He chuckled. "Hmm…glad that college education daddy shelled out for wasn't wasted after all,"

She rolled her eyes at her own dumb remark and sat up.

"What do you want?" she asked, suddenly more irritated than afraid.

"Well now that's the _right _question Miss West!" he licked his lips, like a cat staring at its prey, "That's the _million dollar_ question!"

"If you're planning on blackmailing my father you can forget it!" she snapped, a shiver running through her at the thought of her Mother.

"No…no," he said as he began to walk a wide circle around her, like a shark circling a unsuspecting seal pup, "No that didn't work out too well for you and mommy last time,"

She raised her eyebrows. "Am I going to die?"

"Yes..someday, not today, not tomorrow but one day you will….like we all do, Miss West. It's the _natural _order of things,"

She got to her feet and to her horror he was across the room in seconds. He grabbed her hard, pulling her against him and she yelped, his fingers digging into her face.

"Why can't you _look_ at me, Ballerina?" he jibbed, "Is it the scars?"

She tried to avert her eyes, but he was so close, right in her face that she couldn't look anywhere else. She found herself eye level with his mouth and stared at the jagged scaring here, hidden under caked clown makeup.

She heard a flick and then felt the cold metal of the blade as he pressed it against her face. Amelia felt her legs weaken, but to her surprise he held her up, tightly pressed against him.

"What do you want?" she felt like it was the tenth time she'd asked that question.

He looked into her eyes and she tried to lean away.

"I don't know princess, a house in the country, my very own pony, world domination…maybe I just want you to _remember _me?"

She met his eyes. "Remember you?"

"Didn't our little dance there mean _anything_ to you? You know I really thought for a minute there we _connected_. But no, you're still denying it!"

She shook her head. "You've got this wrong. You must have the wrong person,"

He laughed manically and she felt sick. She had watched the television clips of those poor people he had held hostage all those months ago. That laugh…it was truly terrifying.

"Hmm, let me see if I'm wrong. You're Amelia Jane West…but you're nearest and dearest all call you Millie. You're twenty eight years old and when you were a cute little girl you had dreams of been a prima ballerina. But that all ended the night mommy got her face carved up by a maniac burglar, all because daddy was too upright and honourable to pay the ransom….wondering yet how I know all this?"

She twisted in his arms. "Internet?" she spat angrily.

"Well yes, I suppose I could have…but lets see…how about the fact that I know _everything_ that happened in those three days you were locked up with bill the burglar…including who pulled the trigger that ended his poor, waste of a life.."

"How could you know?" she whispered.

The metal doors swung open behind them. Men in clown masks ran in with guns, bringing Doctor Lye with them.

Amelia's heart twisted in her chest when she saw that he was holding a needle in his hand. It was large and the thickness of it made Amelia gag, her mind trying to block her vivid imagination of where that needle was going.

The Joker turned his attention back to his victim and he squeezed her tightly.

"Ahh, princess, you look worried! Don't worry about that big old needle thing, you wont feel it till it hits your spinal cord and then everything will be just lovely and dreamy. We may uncover some of those locked up memories of yours!"

Amelia's legs buckled and the Joker held her up. One of the clowns came behind her and grabbed her bare legs.

She screamed and she saw Doctor Lye wince.

"Help me, please," she begged to him but he looked away, his eyes filled with a mixture of horror and shame.

"Gag, her!" the Joker demanded, "We don't want him hitting something important do we? Its no fun if she dies already!"

Amelia felt the gag being pulled around her head, pulling her hair uncomfortably. She struggled to breathe normally as the clown shoved the knot in her mouth.

"We should take her to one of the examining rooms," Doctor Lye said nervously, "I can't do this with her on the floor,"

"Fine, lets go to the _examining_ room," the joker winked at her suggestively and her eyes filled with tears.

One of the clowns grabbed her under the arms and one took her legs, and at once she could see the ceiling. She was being moved through the dark corridor. There was a bang in front of her and she was being laid on a cold, metal table.

Amelia screamed and kicked violently as the goons laid her on her side and roughly lifted up her shirt at the back.

The Joker was in front of her; he grabbed her hands in a death grip and brought his face down to hers.

"Baby, please…I'm doing this for your own good," he whispered, his lips close to her ear, "Now if you keep wriggling like that…not that I _don't_ enjoy the sight of a beautiful woman wriggling away on a metal table…the doc might miss your spine and hit something that will mean you cant walk anymore, so please keep still!"

His tone frightened her and she relaxed, feeling his warm hands closing tightly over her cold ones.

She closed her eyes.

"There's a good little girl," he whispered looking over her body at Doctor Lye, "Do it quickly,"

The Doctor placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll feel cold," his voice was shaking, "And then…you'll feel nothing,"

Frightened tears escaped her eyes and her body went rigid.

The needle felt like a small pin prick at first and she whimpered, but it keep going and going. She screamed through the gag as she felt the needle hit bone.

Her eyes flew open and The Joker was there, staring straight at her. He moved closer, running a thumb down her cheek, tracing where her tears had streamed.

To her surprise and confusion, he didn't look like he was enjoying himself.

He leaned nearer, only inches away from her face, his voice low so only she heard him.

"Its going to be alright," he whispered, "You're not going to die,"

The pain in her back said otherwise and she arched in agony as Doctor Lye withdrew the needle. As the pain ebbed away, Amelia's vision went blurry, but she could still sense the commotion going on around her.

One of the goons had come bolting through the examining room doors.

"He's here…Batman!"

Her heart swelled in relief and she was struggling to stay conscious. She heard the voices around her rise in panic.

"Boss, we have to get out of here!" one of the masked clowns shouted.

The Joker cast Amelia a disapproving look and rolled his eyes.

"Dam Bat," he said to Amelia, touching her cheek softly, "Ruining our date, well don't you worry, we'll get you out of here,"

"We can't take her Boss, she'll slow us down!" the clown said, his voice rising in panic. The Joker considered this, he looked crestfallen and annoyed.

"_Fine!_" he agreed at last, obviously angry that his fun had been cut short, "Leave her for now,"

A cool, light feeling was creeping up Amelia's legs and to her horror, she realised that she was drifting away.

The Joker's face was above her own.

"I'll be seeing you, real soon," he whispered, giving her another wink.

Her arms deadening at her sides, she could no longer move, her breathing deepened. He pressed his scared mouth to hers roughly and she couldn't stop him.

Her eyes closed but his kiss didn't end.

Amelia was falling, the room darkening around her, the last thought that popped into her head before she melted away was that now, she could remember her first kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Five**

**What really happened to Siren West**

**Day one**

Amelia had been hanging up her dancing clothes when she heard her Mother scream.

Her ballet slippers dropped to the floor as she whirled around, her body going cold.

There was a boy standing behind her. He was tall, lanky, with broad shoulders and she thought that maybe he was about sixteen.

He was pointing a gun at her.

"You'd better get into the living room," he said quietly, but his voice was urgent.

Shaking Amelia, then thirteen, held up her hands in defence and followed the sound of her Mother's strained voice to the living area.

There was an older man pacing up and down. He was tall and lanky too, with long, dirty hair, greased back. His face was clammy, beads of sweat on his forehead, all wide eyed, his thin lips pressed into a grimace. He stared hard at Amelia and pointed his gun to the seat next to Siren on the couch. Confused Amelia scooted in next to her Mother, who immediately wrapped an arm around her.

She could smell her Mother's perfume, feel her warmth and felt calmer.

"It's alright baby," she whispered into Amelia's blonde hair.

"Call your old man," The older man barked at Siren West and Amelia felt her stiffen.

"Mom, it's alright…just call Daddy," she whimpered.

Siren shook her head. "You won't get any money from husband. He doesn't believe in giving in to terrorism!"

Harold Napier came towards her.

"_Call him, now_," he said quietly his face leering close to Siren and she recoiled in distaste.

"You're wasting your time," Siren protested, her voice calm.

Napier was across the room in seconds. He twisted his dirty hands in Amelia's long blonde hair and dragged her off the couch onto the floor.

Amelia cried out in pain and Siren screamed. Napier took the barrel of the gun and forced it through Amelia's clenched lips. Amelia gagged in terror and pain from having the cold metal forced into her mouth.

"_Dad!" _the boy's voice sounded across the room and Napier's head snapped up.

"What now?" he growled.

"There's a police car outside…one of the neighbours must have heard her screaming,"

Napier withdrew the gun to Amelia's relief and released her hair. She scrambled back over to the couch, where her mother was holding out her arms.

"Baby, I'm sorry," she whispered.

Napier turned and smiled at the two women.

"Well looks like we've got our audience ladies," he clapped his hands together.

Napier was still pacing the room frantically after two hours on the phone with the police.

Siren stared at him hatefully from her unchanged position on the couch.

"I told you…my husband wont pay you a dime," she said in a low voice.

Amelia wished she wouldn't keep talking to him; it only seemed to make him more agitated. She noticed the way he kept flicking his tongue out to lick his lips and dragging his dirty hands through his matted hair.

The boy sat on the floor in the corner by the Stereo cabinet, his back pressed up against it. Amelia noticed he kept staring at her.

Once when he was looking in the other direction she looked at him.

He was much larger than boys his age that were at her school. His face was angular, his hair a dirty blonde. She watched his hands holding the gun, the way he threw it from hand to hand, idly, as if he were bored.

He could be nice looking she thought, hardly able to believe she was thinking those thoughts after having a gun shoved down her throat.

Her lip was still weeping blood from where he'd caught it.

She looked up at her Mother.

"Mom…I'm tired, can I go to my room?"

Siren locked her steel blue eyes with Amelia's and kissed her forehead.

"My daughter wants to lie down…if you're going to keep this up; you should let her rest,"

Napier looked at the younger girl, who was so similar to the movie star sitting with her arms around her.

His plan was not going well. He hadn't bargained for this, he had been sure that Abbott West and been a sure thing. What man _wouldn't _pay the earth to rescue the two most precious things in his life? He decided he was feeling generous and he wanted to keep the women sweet if they were going to be here a while.

"Sure…you go and have a nice lie down sweetheart…while you're at it; _Mommy_ can make us all a nice dinner, if she knows how to cook, that is!"

Siren flushed and Amelia straightened up.

She stood shakily and ignored the boy watching her.

She was at the living room door when she heard Napier behind her.

"Jackie will come with you, keep you company…don't get up to anything naughty though!"

Amelia went rigid as the boy stood up and followed her.

She heard her Mother say, "If that boy touches her…"

"Well teenagers will be teen agers, Mrs West!"

"I mean it; I'll kill him if he lays a finger on her!" she shrieked, suddenly more afraid than of her daughter being alone with a boy than of Napier and his gun.

"Relax woman!" Napier cried, "He's only been sixteen two weeks…he wouldn't know what to do with a girl if one jumped on him!"

Amelia folded her arms around her body as they walked into her bedroom.

She was painfully aware of how young she must look standing in the middle of it.

Everything from the curtains to the bed linen was pink. She had various film star posters on the wall and teddies on her bed.

He was looking down at her ballet shoes and she picked them up hurriedly, shoving them in a draw.

Their eyes met and he gave her a look that was so much older than his years.

"You…you can sit there," she motioned to her fluffy pink armchair that was strewn with clothes, mostly her school uniform.

He was wearing a long duffle coat and he let it slip easily off his shoulders. He discarded it on the floor and fell into the chair.

He folded his arms across his chest and glanced at her standing there.

"Well…you came here to sleep didn't you?" he said.

"I can't sleep with you staring at me," she perched on the edge of the bed.

"Have you got something I can read then?"

She raised an eyebrow. She pointed at the book shelf behind him.

He stood up and scanned the row of books behind him and she stared at the width of his back.

"Have you got anything that _doesn't_ include fairies, witches and princesses?" he mocked her.

She blushed. "I like those stories,"

"Wait what's this? The brave tin soldier? Does it have guns in it?"

Amelia swallowed. "It's a kid's book,"

"That'll do… there you go!" he threw her the book and to her surprise she caught it.

"What's this for?"

"Well if you're not gonna sleep, you can read it to me,"

**Day Two**

Amelia had woken in the night in a start. She rubbed her eyes in the dark and saw the boy sleeping in the chair.

Sitting up quietly she moved gently across the room to the bathroom.

She was surprised to see that lights were still on in the living room. She splashed cold water on her face and combed her hair. Her lip was still swollen from where Napier had brutally forced the gun in her mouth.

She stepped outside the bathroom, closing the door quietly.

Her feet silent on the cold wooden floor, she heard breathing coming from her parents bedroom. She peeked her head around the door and was shocked to see her Mother asleep on the bed. Napier must have let her go to sleep.

As she turned, a scream formed in her throat but it was cut off by the boy's hand. He dragged her back into her bedroom and forced her back down on the bed.

Amelia wriggled but his eyes were on hers intently.

"Don't scream!" he hissed at her, "Are you insane, walking around alone?"

She shook her head, tears starting to form and he rolled his eyes.

"Don't start crying again," he whispered, "If I take my hand away, you promise not to scream?"

She nodded and he released her, still sitting on her waist, he pointed a finger at her.

"The only reason you're in here asleep is because _I'm_ here…you go walking around alone and he finds you….I cant stop him if he goes into a rage,"

Amelia was bright red. "Get _off _me!" she shot angrily.

He held up his hands and slipped off of her.

"Don't blame me if you get shot in the head!"

"Do you think this is funny?" she whispered heatedly.

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" he replied dryly, moving back to the chair.

Amelia burst into tears and he groaned.

"Look soon you'll dad'll pay up and you can go back to your normal happy life, until then you're stuck with me,"

She wiped her eyes, wondering at his tone.

"Do you always go with him?" she whispered, "It can't be much of a life,"

He jumped off the bed abruptly. Amelia could see that his mood had switched almost instantly.

"Well Princeton was too boring for me, I prefer to get my hands dirty, and when the job opening came up I jumped straight in!" he snapped sarcastically.

"How old are you?" she ignored him, intrigued by his sudden annoyance.

"Look, just go back to sleep Ballerina," he shot at her.

She pulled a face at him and climbed back under the covers, knowing he was watching her as she fell asleep.

It was eight in the morning when Amelia next woke. Police cars still surrounded their apartment building. She could see them milling backwards and forwards, pointing up at the building, their expressions tense.

There was an awful sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach as she stood by the window.

"Why are you crying again?" came his irritated voice behind her from the chair.

"I'm not going to get to play Odette in the school play," she answered honestly, knowing how pathetic she sounded. She had been thinking lots of strange thoughts since this whole thing started. One thing she couldn't get out of her head was him.

She was nearly fourteen and her hormones were playing terrible games with her lately.

"What's an Odette?" he asked.

"It's Swan Lake, you idiot!" she snapped, wiping her eyes, "I'm _playing_ Odette!"

"Hmm..let me guess, the swan?" she heard him chuckle, which was new.

"What do you care?"

"Uhh…I don't!" he tried to laugh but then saw her shoulders drop, "Look, you're not going to die!"

"My dad wont pay!" she sobbed, "You don't get it!"

"You're Mom is on the phone to him right now,"

Amelia spun around. "She is?"

He didn't know why it relieved him when she smiled. She ran out into the hall way.

"Mom…can I speak to Daddy?" she called.

"Wait!" he was behind her fast, but Napier was faster.

He pointed a gun at her head.

"Thought I told you to keep this one under control Jackie?" he sneered.

"Sorry…Dad, she just ran out, I'll keep a closer eye on her,"

"Take her back in there!" he shouted scratching his head hard, "Don't want any more distractions,"

Amelia locked eyes with her Mother and mirrored her frightened expression.

In that brief second Amelia could see the change in her. Her eyes looked different, they were empty. Like a light had gone out.

Amelia noticed with revulsion the developing bruises on her Mother's wrists.

Siren nodded at her to go back in the room with Jack, but gave her a soft, comforting smile.

Jack's hands were on her shoulders and Amelia jolted. He pulled her back into the bedroom.

Before she closed the door, she swore she could hear her mother's voice in the hallway.

"Abbott…darling please….he's got a gun…"


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hi everyone and thank you so much to those of you who have reviewed, it really means a lot. Hope you are enjoying some of The Joker's back story. Any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!**

**Day Two Continued**

It was two in the afternoon.

Jack suggested that they play chess.

"I don't know how to play," she protested, her arms folded.

"I'll teach you,"

"Whatever,"

"Where's your board?" he asked.

"I don't know, we probably don't even have one,"

"Dumb kid," he muttered under his breath.

She jumped up, her blonde hair flying and her face red.

"I'm not a kid!" she cried.

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed, "We can play something else? I know how about cards? Please tell me your Dad has a deck of cards somewhere?"

"In the hall way cupboard," she pouted, sitting back on the bed.

"I'll be right back,"

In the minutes he was gone, Amelia was in the mirror. She brushed her hair furiously and squirted on some of her Mother's Channel that she kept for parties only.

When he came back and found her sat on the bed as he'd left, he sniffed the air curiously and smiled to himself.

She blushed crimson, realising that he would of course notice the sudden perfumed air.

"Ok, so how about strip poker?" he grinned at her face, "No? Ok how about a magic trick?"

Despite everything Amelia found herself smiling. He had an infectious, lop sided smile, which was impossible not to return.

"You can do magic? Know any jokes too?"

"Only bad ones," Jack said smiling up at her. Then he seemed to catch himself.

To her surprise and delight, she saw his face turn bright red.

Shuffling the deck in his hands, he kept his face down. Finally he looked up.

"I'll teach you Poker," he said more seriously and Amelia scooted forward, cross legged on the bed.

"So," Jack said, beginning to deal out the deck, "Swan Lake, huh? So is that like a musical or something?"

Amelia grinned; secretly flattered he was taking an interest.

"No," she answered, "It's a Ballet, you know, a dance?"

Jack laughed. "Does everyone dance? Even the guys?"

"Yeah. There are plenty of boys at my dance school," she replied, ignoring his laughter.

"You go to a dance school? So do any of your boy _friends_ go to this school?"

Amelia was used to sarcastic questions about her hobby. Most of the boys she went to school with would never be seen dead at a ballet class.

"Most are like you and into, you know, guy stuff. My best friend doesn't like the idea much either, he's more into gadgets and cars," she smiled thinking of Bruce, "But he's a geek too, he's in the chess club,"

She saw the quick change in his face. He stared down at the dealt cards and said nothing, his neck reddening. Amelia realised it was probably because he had nothing to say and maybe slightly embarrassed. She doubted that he'd even gone to school, let alone a private one like she did.

The idea of ballet, chess clubs and school plays was something foreign to him; she realised sadly and thought she was better to change the subject.

An hour later and fully in the swing of the game, Amelia seemed to have forgotten that her Mother was stuck outside in the living room with Jack's psychotic father.

Every time her mind turned to Siren, those bruises on her wrists were the first thing she thought about. Amelia didn't like to think too hard about how she got them, as every time she did, a rock would drop in her stomach, making her feel queasy.

"It's raining," she said glancing out of the window, "Wonder what they're doing out there?"

"Hopefully you're father will see sense soon and pay up," Jack quipped, reshuffling the deck, "I'm tired of this now,"

"Me too," Amelia yawned, "Do you think your dad will let me speak to my mom? It's been all day since I've seen her,"

Jack climbed to his feet. "I'll go ask,"

Amelia smiled to herself. At least he was being nice to her now, not staring at her like she was a huge inconvenience.

Ten minutes later, Amelia's bedroom door opened and Siren poked her head around the corner.

"Oh honey," she reached out as Amelia launched into her arms, "Are you Ok?"

"I'm fine Mom, but you…I'm so scared at what he'll do to you!"

Siren, her beautiful face red and blotchy from tears, looked down at her and kissed her face. Amelia could tell that her smile was hiding secrets. She felt the tension in her Mother's body. She could see the marks on her neck, purple coloured welts near her ears.

"Mom, you're neck,"

"It's alright, honey," Siren avoided her quizzical stare.

"What's been going on?" Amelia asked.

"I've been trying to talk to him, but everything I say seems to enrage him…you're father isn't helping matters,"

"Why wont Daddy do something!" Amelia's voice rose in frustration.

"When I spoke to him on the phone he told me everything would be alright….we just need to keep quiet and not engage Napier, maybe then this will all go away,"

Amelia looked up at her and her face turned a little pink at what she was about to say.

"You didn't mention _Jack_ to daddy did you?"

Siren gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean honey?"

"I mean you didn't tell the police that there were four of us? Do they know about Jack?"

Siren shook her head, bemused.

"I don't know honey. I don't remember mentioning it to him; in fact I'm sure I didn't….why?"

"It's just that….I think he's innocent in all of this,"

The door bumping open behind them made both women jump.

Jack stood there with his gun, his eyes black.

"Times up," he said in a low voice.

Siren hugged Amelia fiercely. "I love you, baby,"

Amelia, a slave to her hormones began weeping yet again. "I love you too,"

She tidied up her face as Jack escorted her Mother back out to the Living room. When he came back he strode purposely towards her and grabbed her arm roughly.

"Ouch…what are you doing?"

Amelia accidently bit down on her swollen lip and it began to bleed.

Pretending not to notice, Jack backed her up against the wall.

"I heard you and mommy talking about me and whatever you're planning, _don't bother_…I make my own luck!" he snarled.

Amelia licked her lip painfully. "I wasn't planning anything! Get off, you jerk!"

"You think you know me because we played poker together? You don't know anything about me,"

"I don't want to know you; you're a waste of space!" she snapped, angrily, her temper suddenly breaking. This wasn't fair. Terrible things were happening just a few feet away from her and she could no nothing to help. Her father, the man who was supposed to love them and protect them with his life, was doing _nothing_!

Amelia swallowed, seeing Jack's face change. She could see that stung him more than she'd realised and she instantly regretted her outburst.

She grabbed a tissue from her desk draw and mopped at her lip.

"I didn't mean that," she said after he stalked back to her pink fluffy chair and threw himself in it.

He laughed, a nasty look in his eyes. "Do I look like I care?"

"Yes, you do," she whispered. She sat back on her bed and stared at him. He refused to look at her.

"What shall we do now?" she asked.

Exhaustion and boredom had lulled Amelia into a restless afternoon sleep. Opening her eyes, she glanced about the room and saw Jack looking in her closet.

She was about to scream at him to mind his own business when she saw what he was holding.

He'd opened her draw and had pulled out one of her ballet slippers.

Jack was looking at it closely and folding it over in his hands, touching it softly, running his thumb along the heel.

Amelia could feel the heat creeping up her neck. What was he doing?

Almost as if he sensed her eyes on him he turned around abruptly and she closed her eyes just in time. He turned back to the closet and something in her stomach flipped.

He liked her! And the worrying thing was, the longer she spent confined with him, the more she liked him.

"Dinner," Jack said and Amelia opened her eyes. The smell of hotdogs greeted her and her stomach growled hungrily.

She sat up and took the plate he was holding out.

"Is my Mom Ok?" she asked and he scowled at her.

"She's fine," he snapped, obviously still annoyed with her from earlier.

She took a bite out of the hotdog and winced.

"What is it now?" he asked.

"Nothing…just my lip,"

Jack flipped the bedside light on and sat down next to her. He took her face roughly in his hands, running his fingers along the curve of her mouth.

Her heart thundering in her chest Amelia winced again when he touched the sore part of her lip.

"It'll heal," he whispered, letting his fingers run down the side of her neck.

His eyes were locked on hers and for an endless moment Amelia was frozen to the spot. Eventually she moved and managed to pull away and looking awkward, he shuffled off the bed.

The sound of the telephone ringing in the hallway broke the silence and Jack poked his head out into the hall.

Creeping up behind him, Amelia could hear strained voices and the sound of her mother crying. She peered over Jack's shoulder into the darkened hallway

"No, he hasn't hurt us," she could hear her mother speaking into the telephone in a strained voice, "But Abbott, I don't know how much longer this will last…you've got to do something…pay the man_, please_!"

Jack glanced at Amelia and gently pushed her back. But not before she saw Napier snatch the phone angrily from Siren's shaking hands. With a swift move he cracked the receiver against her skull and she slumped to the floor, crying out in pain.

Amelia screamed and pushed past Jack and into the hall. She was at her Mother's side but Napier hauled her to her feet by her hair, he threw her violently to the ground and she felt her skull smash into the wooden floor. Tears of agony running down her face she cried as loudly as she could, praying her father would hear her.

"_Daddy, please, do something_!"

There was a sickening thud above her, bone hitting flesh hard and she squeezed her eyes shut, reaching out for her Mother's hand before passing out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Day Three**

When she woke up she was back on her bed and wondered for a fleeting moment if she'd dreamed it all. But when she touched her forehead and felt the lump there she winced and her heart leapt.

"Mom!" she cried sitting up abruptly and her head throbbed, waves of nausea washing over her.

"She's Ok," Jack's voice came from the chair in the corner, "He hit her pretty hard though,"

"Can I talk to her, _please_?" she began to cry and he heard him moan. She heard him moving from the chair and then felt his weight on the edge of the bed.

"Its best you just stay here…he isn't in a good frame of mind right now,"

"How can _you _do this?" she hissed at him suddenly furious, "How can you just go along with everything that's happened?"

"What makes you think I have a choice?" he said, his voice distant.

Amelia frowned. "Everyone has choices…you could run away?"

She heard him chuckle. "To the circus? And be what, a clown?"

"Be _serious_ Jack, why do you stay with him? I know you're not like him!"

He didn't answer and for an endless moment they just sat there in the dark, listening to the other's breathing. Amelia fought the temptation to fall into his arms.

Finally he whispered. "Someone needs to keep an eye on him, and seeing as I have first hand experience of what he's capable of, it really should be me,"

"You're not responsible for him, Jack," she reached out her hand and found his in the dark, "You're life could be so different.."

He pulled his hand away and Amelia was glad it was dark so he couldn't see her blush.

She had come to realise that when he pushed her away it was time for a change of subject. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Four in the morning,"

She pushed back the covers and hauled her legs over the edge.

"Uhh…where are you going?"

"To the bathroom," she said, annoyed, "That's Ok isn't it?"

She flipped the light on and shielded her eyes. When they adjusted she looked at him and gasped.

"Your face!" she cried, grabbing his shoulders.

Jack had a gash that ran along the side of his mouth and his right eye was swollen.

He gently pushed her off. "Don't worry about it!"

"But…did he…?"

"I kind of jumped on him trying to scare him off. He didn't like that!"

Amelia looked at his sore bruised face and felt her heart swell in her chest.

"Well, you shouldn't have done that…he could have killed you,"

Jack half smiled. "He could've killed me a hundred times. What, you worried about me all of a sudden?"

She stood up and swayed a little on her feet.

"Shall I show you something?" she asked looking down at him.

He grinned suggestively. "And what would that be ballerina?"

She smirked. "Don't be gross. We have a room upstairs,"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Upstairs? But there are no stairs"

"Not that _you _would have seen. This is a pretty big apartment, and my parents have hundreds of parties. Where do you think they all go to dance?"

She could see his interest building.

"So you're telling me you a have a room above this place?"

Amelia shook her head. "Try the whole floor, with a great view of Gotham. Want to see?"

"Hmm," he couldn't help but smile, "We'd have to be very quiet,"

She put a finger to her lips. "Follow me then,"

She grabbed her dressing gown and crept to the door.

"I'll go first," Jack whispered, taking the gun from his jean belt, "Lets just hope he's dozed off,"

Without thinking they both reached for the other's hand. Jack looked at her and caught her blush.

"Head to the bathroom, there is a door to the right of the bathroom door. Those are the stairs,"

He nodded silently and with their feet bare on the wooden floor, clutching hands tightly they crept across the hallway.

Jack found the doorway, which to anyone else looked like the door to an ordinary cupboard. It opened smoothly and to his surprise, there was a secret set of stairs leading upwards.

She nudged him inside and closed the door quietly behind her.

"Won't he hear us talking up here?" Jack whispered as they reached the top.

"Daddy had it made sound proof; they've had some pretty wild parties from what I've heard,"

The narrow set of carpeted stairs opened out onto what looked like a huge ballroom. She heard him whistle through his teeth. The floor was so polished you could see your reflection in it.

On one side of the room, rather than being a normal wall, it was completely glass from end to end, that indeed had the most breathtaking view over Gotham City.

"This is…" Jack began and absently let go of Amelia's hand, "I mean look at this view…you can see Wayne Towers and everything!"

Amelia watched as he pressed his nose against the window, staring out at the darkened skyline, his breath fogging the glass. The lights below shone up at them like a thousand candles glittering in the dark. Thousands of people sleeping below them, waiting for their alarms to sound and up here it was silent and peaceful and the night could go on forever.

He stepped back and folded his arms.

"So this is where Gotham's finest come to party. I can't imagine having this life you have ballerina," he sighed, "You just don't know…"

Amelia touched his arm lightly. "Want to dance?"

His face scrunched up into a laugh. "I don't do that,"

"Have you ever tried?"

"Well no!" he said, a nervous giggle forming in his throat, "But I know I would look like an idiot!"

Amelia ran over to what looked like an enormous music centre. He watched nervously as she began rooting through some old records.

"Its all Dads' old stuff!" she made a disappointed face, "But it'll do,"

"You better keep it low," Jack warned suddenly brought out of his day dream.

Amelia pressed a button and the low guitar music floated across the big empty room.

She grinned nervously. "Come here then,"

He looked so embarrassed walking towards her, but Amelia had never felt more excited in her life.

It was as if she'd discovered that she had a magic power. She had felt it the day he had walked, uninvited into her life.

He liked her and she knew it. He'd protected her this whole time and the more he tried to push her away, the more she wanted to know about him.

She was enjoying this little bit of power over him, enjoying his reaction to her. She liked to see him blush, loved his smile and the way he looked at her, like she was some precious creature, a new discovery.

When his hand found hers in the darkened room, she jolted, bringing him closer, letting her other hand trail around his back.

His head was lowered so that she couldn't see his eyes.

"I've never done this," he said.

"I know," she replied, "But you can't keep looking at your feet the whole time,"

He giggled and said, "Fine, Ok, ballerina, do your best,"

"Well start with your right foot, move it backwards. I'll follow you, but you're leading me remember..."

Jack bumped her accidently and they both started laughing, relaxing into the dance. By the time the piece of music had built into a song, they had accomplished the basics.

"Now spin me!" Amelia commanded and let go of his hand, "That's right. Again!"

Laughing, Jack grabbed her under the arms and lifted her easily off the floor. He spun her around and dropped her accidently.

Both giggling, they tried to resume, but instead he twirled her again, then once more, her feet skidding across the polished floor.

"I'm dizzy!" she cried, nearly toppling over, but he caught her quickly under the arms.

Without thinking Jack pulled her against him and before she could protest, his mouth was on hers roughly.

She bit back the pain in her lip and when she winced, he pulled away.

Both breathless, they stared at each other in shock.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, red in the face, "Your mouth…I forgot,"

Amelia grabbed his shirt collar and shook her head quickly to silence him.

"Its Ok," she whispered, pressing her lips to his again, but this time it was gentle, not the bruising kiss Jack had landed on her.

She felt his body stiffen. Heat scorched up through her body, as she felt him try to kiss her back.

It wasn't perfect, but then Amelia had never kissed anyone before and she sensed that he had never done so either.

At one point their teeth clashed, but there was something gentle and nice about it, and no matter how surreal it seemed, neither had any intention of stopping.

Jack wrapped his arms around her and she melted against him.

Without either of them realising, the kiss deepened, they seemed to grow together and when she felt his tongue sneak along her bottom lip, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Then they heard the scream. A hollow shriek from downstairs that tore Amelia's eyes open.

Jumping, they both broke apart, breathing hard.

"Mom," she whispered.

With his gun in one hand and Amelia's hand in the other, Jack ran for the stairs.

They both burst out of the door and into the corridor of the apartment below.

"_What have you done_?" Jack cried at his Father, who looked up at them surprised.

"They're you are Jackie, now what have two you been up to?"

A cold numbness slithered up Amelia's legs.

Napier was drenched in blood. It was everywhere, his hands, his shirt.

"Jack…" she whispered faintly.

"Now look at you two little love birds, sneaking off to do bad things together. You really should have told me where you went off to…otherwise I wouldn't have had to punish her for letting you go…"

Amelia felt bile rising in her throat. "Jack…my mom…"

Jack's eyes were black. "What have you _done _to her Dad?"

Napier grinned devilishly and pulled out a pocket knife from his stained jeans.

"Siren West's movie career is over for now, unless she does some _behind _the scenes work!" he laughed manically at this and Amelia tried to run forward, but Jack caught her hand.

There was a cry of pain from her parent's bedroom and Amelia's eyes darted to the door.

She bolted and Jack lost his grip on her wrist. She tried to dodge Napier, but he deftly caught her around the waist.

Jack's legs buckled. "Dad don't please…"

Napier pulled her to face him and to her horror, she was pressed against his chest, his vile breath in her face. He pinched her cheeks together with his dirty, long fingernails.

"You want to look just like mommy don't you princess?" he flicked the blade close to her face.

"I can make that beautiful smile of yours last a lifetime. Jack's mother was like you both, blonde, pretty… and a pain in the ass! I gave her a permanent smile, so she could always see how pretty she looked when she smiled. Only…she didn't like the results. Like all women, she wasn't happy! The grass wasn't greener,"

Amelia struggled in his grip, but every time she did, she seemed to only get closer to his face, the blade pressing there uncomfortably.

"You're the reason she killed herself!" Jack's voice distracted her, "Don't pretend it was her fault…"

"She couldn't live with her makeover," Napier laughed hard, "Do you think your mommy will like the new person she'll become?"

"What have you done?" Amelia whispered, "_Please_ let me go to her,"

"Now we're going to have to get you on the ground if you want the same look, keep you nice and still, otherwise I might get your throat!"

Napier's hands were around her neck, squeezing tightly. Amelia felt the blood draining from her legs as she was being slowly forced to the floor.

She choked and tried to swallow but bile rose up in her throat. She grabbed his arms for support but felt her back hit the floor.

Napier was above her, closing in, the blade dancing dangerously close to her eyes.

"Now," he giggled as she was on her verge of blacking out, "Let's put a smile on that face!"

She heard the bullets crack through the air. She saw Napier's face change, contort in confusion and shock.

The gap between them closed and he slumped on top of her.

Amelia cried out and saw Jack's face looming above her, pulling at the dead weight that was now pinning her painfully to the ground.

"Its ok, it's ok," he was shaking, taking her hands. He pulled her to her feet.

Amelia ran to the bedroom on weak legs and burst through the half open door.

The sight on the bed that awaited her, sent her head spinning. There was a woman on the bed but it wasn't her Mother.

Siren West lay in a pool of her own blood, staring wide eyed up at the ceiling, the place where her mouth had been, just a black gaping hole.

Amelia backed away on deadened legs and slid down the wall.

"M-Mom,"

The person that used to be Siren West gurgled a reply, reaching out a hand for her daughter.

Jack's face was grave. "I have to go,"

Amelia looked up at him, her eyes confused.

"What will happen to her?" she whispered, she was dazed and faint, and she leaned back against the chest of draws.

Jack knelt in front of her and took her hands.

"_Look at me ballerina_!" he said urgently, "The police would have heard those shots; they'll be on their way up. I _have_ to leave, you have to forget I was ever here!"

This seemed to bring her to life again. She grabbed both his hands.

"I need you to stay…my mom's so hurt…" she spluttered.

"They'll be paramedics coming," he looked so sad, "You'll be Ok,"

They locked eyes and Amelia touched her lips, where only a short while ago, he had been kissing her. Her eyes filled with tears.

"What will you do?" she sobbed, filling her heart burst with sadness.

He smiled sadly. "Who knows? Maybe I'll sign up for the circus after all?"

He bolted for the door but cast a quick look back over her shoulder.

Amelia was staring blankly ahead, at her Mother, who was writhing on the bed in pain and horror. Painfully she crawled across the floor and onto the bed, laying her body rigidly down beside her Mother, folding her arms around her.

Jack was gone in a moment, as silently and as deftly as he had come into her life.

Amelia blinked and her eyes softly closed. As she drifted into a deep, almost catatonic sleep, she saw a tin solider standing proudly in the flames of a burning fire, holding his musket and gazing up at his ballerina, who after deciding she couldn't live without him, threw herself in beside him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone, just wanted to say a huge, huge thank you to those who have read & reviewed! I'm so thrilled you guys are enjoying it. This next chapter is rather long, I'm sorry, but c couldn't find a suitable stopping point. Hope you'll like it as much as I loved writing it. If you have any notes, please, please feel free, it's really appreciated. This is the part where Amelia wakes up and has to come to terms with her new found memories and how she feels about The Joker. It was a lot of fun to write and I hope I have been true to the Joker's character etc. Enjoy! Cheers again xx**

**I remember you**

Amelia awoke in a cold sweat and when she opened her eyes it was Bruce's relieved face she saw first.

"Thank God," he whispered clutching her tightly.

"Bruce….Oh God, Bruce, I can remember!"

He let her fall back against the pillow. She was pale and looked exhausted.

When Batman had found her out cold on the metal slab in Arkham three whole days ago, another part of Bruce Wayne nearly died that instant.

He couldn't believe that someone else he cared deeply for had been taken by the Joker.

Bringing her back to Wayne Manor, he had his friend Lucious Fox run some tests on her blood. She seemed to have been injected into the spine, with a drug that allowed her to sleep, but yet let her recover, lost or blocked memories. It had been in controversial tests at Arkham, but as Fox had told him, it had been banned because it was deemed too dangerous. The dreams the patient suffered were so real that it was possibly fatal. The mind believed what it was seeing.

In one case Fox mentioned, it was being tested on a rape victim who in order to try to identify her attackers, underwent treatment as she had mentally blocked out the night it had happened. The attack was so brutal that during the test, the young woman was unable to breath, causing her to loose vital oxygen to the brain. She woke up, with severe brain damaging.

Bruce listened for an hour, wide eyed as Amelia told him everything that had happened to her when she was a teenager, something she had never been able to do.

Leaving out the part where she and Jack had kissed in the rooftop ballroom, she spilled it all out, unable to believe the clarity that the memories were coming to her.

"Jack Napier is the _Joker_, Bruce!" she insisted when he raised his eyebrow at her, "I'm telling you, it's not a dream. It all fits, the book, the music, everything! He wanted me to remember him,"

"But then if that's true…he saved your life!"

Amelia felt her face growing hot and she pulled the duvet up to her chin.

"I don't know what to say Bruce; I know its all true,"

"It does seem to fit," Bruce agreed, "But the fact that he saved your life when you were fourteen doesn't undo the fact that he's killed hundreds of innocent people as the Joker,"

Amelia pulled herself into a sitting position in bed.

"I'm not defending him Bruce…God, he had me held down and injected in the spine! He needs to be locked up, but…"

Bruce felt his heart plummeting. "Don't even go there!"

"But what does he want?" she asked, her frustration building.

"You need to ask? He wants _you_, plain and simple. If I were a psychotic killer locked up in a mental institution I'd want a companion too. But the Joker tires easily and who knows how long it'll take before he got bored and traded you in,"

Bruce saw her face crumple but he continued regardless.

"_Yes_, he may be the same guy who you were locked up with when you were a kid, but that _boy_ is gone and you're left with a man you don't know anymore. Who I would like to add is responsible for the death of your best friend,"

Amelia shivered under the covers. "Bruce don't…I can't believe how close I came. He was terrifying and poor Rachel…how scared she must have been of him when he kidnapped her,"

Bruce leaned forward and hugged her tightly and he felt how fragile she was, her slim body shivering.

"I can't loose you as well Amelia," he whispered into her soft hair and she flushed, pulling away, suddenly awkward.

"I think I need to be alone for a while, Bruce," she said, "I'm so exhausted and so much has happened. I think I should go back to my own apartment,"

She saw his face pale but he nodded silently.

Alfred drove her back to her apartment block in the city. They didn't talk for most of the journey and occasionally he glanced back at her in the mirror, worrying at her pale, sullen complexion and dark eyes.

His eyes were misty as he waved her goodbye on the street corner, making her promise to call if she needed anything.

Amelia was relieved to finally be alone. She trudged into the elevator with her case and fell back against the wall as the door closed.

Rubbing her tired eyes she tried to shake herself awake. Bruce's friend Mr Fox had warned that the effects of the drug would take a while to work its way out of her body.

Her apartment felt cold and unfamiliar, and she stared blankly down at the pile of unopened mail on the welcome mat.

Bruce said she'd lost three days but Amelia felt like she'd lost more. She could see again. She could remember and it felt like she'd been rudely awakened from a pleasant dream of denial.

Lost years rushing back at her, forcing their way in, making her remember what had happened to her Mother. It felt like loosing her all over again.

A pink envelope stared up at her from the mat and she leaned to pick it up.

Groaning she realised what it was.

It was an official invitation to the yearly Gotham Charity Costume Ball, held each year for a charity handpicked by the Mayor. This year it was Gotham Zoo and Jenny Maddle, Amelia's therapist had made her promise to go, as it was something that she was involved with.

The theme was birds and Jenny had come with Amelia ages ago to find her costume.

Amelia sighed placing the invitation on the kitchen counter, knowing that it would be hard to wriggle out of this one.

Besides she knew that she shouldn't give in to what she was feeling. People were expecting to see her there and she knew there would be interest when she didn't show up.

There were sixteen messages on her answer phone, most of which were from work trying to find out where she was.

She was relieved that Bruce and Alfred had called work for her and she had a curt message from HR, telling her that she wasn't expected back until she had completely recovered. It had turned out that JJ, her boss, had nothing to do with what had happened at to her at Arkham, he was as mystified as everyone else. He was under the impression that it was a genuine lead from the mental institution.

One message was from her Father, he sounded frantic, but Bruce had also called him to tell him what had happened. The second from last was from Bruce, left only ten minutes before she stepped in the door, telling her that if she needed anything to call immediately.

She smiled sadly to herself, remembering how crushed he looked when she told him that she wanted to go home. Perhaps Bruce did feel something for her after all these years of friendship. She had to admit they had grown close in the last few days.

Amelia skipped forward to the last message.

"Hello, Ballerina, glad to see you got home alright…" the voice filled the room and Amelia jumped, her heart racing.

Her hand flew to the pause button and she grabbed the gun Bruce had presented her with before leaving Wayne Manor. She went into every room and switched on the lights. She pulled open cupboard doors and only when she was satisfied that she was alone, did she return to the answer phone.

Trembling she pressed play.

"I had every intention of being there when you woke up…but the Batman ruined our date, as he has a habit of doing….so I was thinking rain check. Now that you're awake and I'm sure all those lovely memories have returned, perhaps we could reschedule? Have a look at your calendar and tell me what you think!"

The message clicked off and Amelia swallowed. She turned and glanced over her shoulder.

The Calendar on her kitchen wall was staring at her and she saw in horror that a date had been circled in bright red pen.

He had been in her home, again. It sickened her to think he'd just walked straight in, leaving no traces he was even there. It reminded her of how he'd disappeared that last night Napier had butchered her Mother. How was he doing this? She stepped towards the calendar and took it from the wall.

In big letters he had circled the date and scrawled a message by the side of it.

_**Steeple Park 2am. I'll be wearing purple.**_

"Tonight," Amelia said, her stomach churning.

It was a brisk walk downtown to Steeple Park. Amelia knew that Bruce would absolutely kill her if he had any idea what she was about to do.

She'd tried to make her voice bright and cheery on the phone when he called, trying to hide the anguish she felt.

The air was thick with fog and Amelia huddled tightly into her green velvet coat, steam escaping her lips.

It was eerily quiet, and she checked her watch, ten minutes to two in the morning. Her hand in her pocket was grasping the Gun Bruce had given her.

She took the long root to the park, not wanting to get caught down any alley ways that served as short cuts.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could have sworn that someone was right behind her, a shadow constantly disappearing out of sight.

She stood completely still in the darkness and strained her eyes.

"Is anyone there?" she called, her voice surprisingly curt.

Amelia hadn't actually expected anyone to reveal themselves and she rolled her eyes at her own silliness.

She rubbed her arms, pushing the feeling of dread to the back of her mind.

She arrived at Adams Street, and saw the huge metal gates for Steeple Park, across the road.

Trying to steady her heart she nipped across the street and saw that the gates were open.

Amelia kept telling herself that she wasn't coming to see the Joker; she was coming to see Jack. And despite Bruce's words earlier that morning, she was convinced that some small part of Jack lived and breathed under that clown façade.

Why else would he have gone to all this trouble? Was it because he _wanted _to change?

Amelia doubted that, but if she could appeal to any part of the Jack she remembered, then maybe she could convince him to go back to Arkham, or to a place that could really help him.

The fact that The Joker had kissed her and she could still feel Jack's mouth on hers, like it happened only moments ago, was still ringing in her head, but she tried to ignore it.

Jack, the boy she had been attracted to when she was a girl, no longer existed.

Amelia wondered what could have happened since that last time to drive him to become The Joker.

Steeple Park was a huge area and she usually loved to take walks in the ornate gardens, amongst the topiary trees and statutes. Characters from famous children's books had been made into statues and placed all over the park, you followed them through and it led to the Carousel at the south end of the park. Everyone from The White Rabbit to Gulliver was in the park and it had become a popular place to hold concerts and out door events.

Tonight though, in the glimmer of moon light everything had taken a more sinister look. The carvings looked like gargoyles, leering at her in the dark and Amelia hurried towards the south end, knowing that area was better lit.

She had a feeling she wouldn't have to wait long for the Joker to find her and glancing at her watch, her heart beat quicker as she saw the Carousel ahead.

Her watch read two am.

Amelia sat on a cold, damp park bench and waited.

She still had that awful feeling someone was there, watching her.

Ten minutes passed quickly and she began to become annoyed, she stood and walked about to try and warm her cold feet.

The sound of her cell phone buzzing in her pocket made her cry out. She scrambled to find it and saw the unknown number appear on the little screen.

She flipped the lid of the phone. "Yes?"

"Ahh, glad to hear that you didn't stand me up ballerina," the familiar voice chuckled at the other end of the line.

Amelia scowled. "If you have something to say then get to the point and meet me face to face!"

"Now, now, watch that temper. Although I love a bit of fight in a woman," the Joker laughed at the other end, "I'm not that far away…why don't you have some fun and take a little ride?"

The line went dead and Amelia stared at the phone. Then to her amazement the carousel lit up behind her and began to whirl into action.

Amelia spun around to see all the twinkling lights flicker on and the ride start up to the chiming music, sending goose bumps up her arms.

She walked towards it, knowing that this was all part of the plan and she would have to climb on. She found the metal stairs and got onto the carousel, grabbing one of the horses for support.

As it turned, she saw him walking towards her through the centre of the ride. He was wearing a lot more makeup than the last time she saw him and his large coat hung like a tent on his shoulders, making him appear bigger than he actually was.

He grinned manically and pointed to the carnation that he tucked into his lapel.

"Isn't that what you do on a first date?" he laughed, taking her hand.

Amelia was shocked at how calm she felt and she didn't shudder when he took her hand and kissed it. She knew him now.

"This _isn't_ a date," she said stepping away from his grasp.

"Oh don't spoil things princess," he said, climbing on top of the horse and pretending to ride it, "I've been waiting a long time for you to wake up,"

Amelia felt suddenly dizzy from all the whirling about and realised that she still wasn't over the effects of the drugs the Joker used on her.

Stumbling, she got off the ride and dropped onto the grass, keeping her head down. She heard a thump and saw his patent shoes appear right next to her.

"What's wrong?"

There was a hint of concern in his voice but Amelia felt too sick to recognise it. Instead she just felt angry. "I'm dizzy, ok? I'm still trying to get over those drugs you gave me,"

The Joker took her under the arms and hauled her to her feet and for a moment, her eyes were level with his and she didn't break his stare.

"It really is you," she whispered, amazed, "What the hell happened to you?"

Not liking that comment the Joker let her go roughly and she regained her balance.

"Why so many questions?" he chided, "Let me ask you one Ballerina…why do women feel the need to change a man? The minute I meet a woman, they want to analyse me, get into my head, know everything I'm thinking, feeling…"

Amelia rubbed her eyes, trying to force away the dizziness.

"I find it hard to believe there is a woman who would _want_ to get into _your _head," she replied tartly and he laughed at that, "But seeing as you ask….its called getting close,"

"No, its called _control!_" he shouted, suddenly beginning to pace manically, "Don't pretend that when you got my note to meet you here, the thought of trying to appeal to my better nature didn't enter your head!"

It was Amelia's turn to laugh.

"I'm confused Jack," she saw him wince slightly at the sound of being called by his real name, "You _drugged_ me remember? You lured me to Arkham, stuck a needle in my back and then asked _me_ to meet you here. A girl could read that the wrong way,"

She saw the glint of metal in the light and shuddered as the pocket knife flashed into view. In seconds he crossed the gap between them and he held her roughly by the back of her neck, forcing him to meet his unending stare.

"What way _did_ you read it, Princess?"

"The way you wanted me to," she struggled against him, "I'm here, Ok? So whatever it is that you _really_ want, get it over with. I don't like games anymore,"

He licked his lips and smiled. "How about magic tricks?"

"Or bad jokes?" she replied and he released his grip on her neck.

Amelia knew she was getting to him. She wasn't the confused one, _he was_.

He began to pace again, his hands running through his matted, green tinged hair.

How was it possible that the Jack she remembered, the Jack that protected her, had become this monster? Was he still under there?

Bravely, she walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned and stared at her with black eyes.

"What happened to you, Jack?" she whispered. He lunged at her, knocking her off balance and toppling her to the ground, pinning her arms above her head.

"_Don't call me that_!" he seethed at her, his painted face inches from hers.

Amelia stared helplessly up at him, at his crooked smile and gashed mouth, instantly reminded of the night he kissed her. She blushed crimson and hoped he didn't notice.

Unfortunately he missed nothing. A manic giggle escaped his lips.

"Ahh, having a little flash back are we Princess?" he sniggered, his weight heavy on her, "Perhaps you wanted to be reminded of the real thing?"

She wriggled. "Get the hell off!"

"Don't keep wiggling like that, you're not helping yourself…wait, no forget that wriggle all you like…"

Managing to get an arm free, she slapped him, having the momentary pleasure of seeing the confusion in his eyes.

His grip loosening, she rolled away underneath him, scrambling to her feet. But he was quicker than she imagined, his foot wedging under hers and causing her to fall face down in the grass again.

He hauled her onto her back like she weighed nothing.

"Naughty girl!" he chided.

"Are we going to play this game all night?" she cried, "Why did you ask me to come here?"

"Well that's not a simple answer to give," he laughed, "Maybe I want to kill you? Maybe I want to drive you insane? Maybe I just want a dam good lay?"

Her face flaming at the thought, Amelia twisted but he pinched her face painfully between his fingers.

"I just want my question answered, ballerina!" he said close to her ear, "Why did _you _come here tonight?"

Amelia stared at him and felt hot tears forming in her eyes and the lump in her throat. It was like being fourteen again, hormonal and out of control. She was lost in his gaze and knew no matter what age, she would always feel this strange pull between them.

She didn't see the clown anymore, or the scars. She just saw Jack and to her horror, she knew she was going to break down in front of him.

"I came…to see Jack," she whispered, "I wanted to thank him, for saving my life,"

This had thrown him and he suddenly appeared uncomfortable.

"And you…" she continued, "What you did to me was horrible…and you need to go back to Arkham…but I wanted to thank you too, for opening my eyes, no matter how awful the things I saw,"

His grip on her arms loosened and his weight on her relaxed a little. She shivered beneath him and he leaned closer, his mouth placing a kiss right next to her lips. His breath was warm on her face and instinctively she turned her head and her mouth found his.

She could taste the red paint on his lips but she ignored it, feeling his body relax into hers. Her heart was searing in her chest, feeling like any minute it would explode. He ran his hands down her arms, allowing her freedom but instead of pushing him away, she gripped him tighter, trailing her hands over his shoulders.

Every single part of her was on fire and she could have quiet easily forgotten who he was, where she was, everything, until she felt his hand on her thigh, pushing its way up her skirt and she stiffened.

They broke apart and stared at each other, out of breath.

Her mouth felt like it was swollen and she saw the struggle going on in his mind.

He desperately wanted more, she could feel it and a part of her mirrored that but it lasted only seconds.

The joker returned that black, hideous look in his eyes.

"Well you really let yourself go there didn't you pumpkin? Anyone would think you were actually enjoying yourself," he flicked his knife to her face and pressed the razor edge against her temple, "Jack has left the building I'm afraid and your going to have to deal with me,"

"Get off me!" she gasped, feeling the blade slip lightly downwards to her neck. There was a brief moment of pain, then the feeling of warm liquid trickling down her neck.

"Opps!" the joker grinned, "Slipped, silly me…let me get clean that up for you,"

His tongue, hot on her ice cold flesh, traced upwards where the blood had run from her cut all the way to her earlobe. Amelia gasped, the carnal, degrading act revolting her and setting her alight in the same instant. She tried to ignore the heat creeping up her legs.

He was distracted and she saw her chance brining her knee up hard into his crotch.

He made a yelping noise and momentarily dazed, he rolled off her. Amelia was faster this time and on her feet in seconds.

But she ran full speed into a dark figure, knocking her backwards.

Batman grabbed her with outstretched arms and she cried out in shock.

"Run," he snarled at her and she didn't stop to look. She kicked off her heels and pelted through the park, her heart hammering in her chest.


	12. Chapter 12

**Two of a Kind**

Batman watched as the clown climbed to his feet, showing no signs of pain. He laughed, putting his hands on his hips.

"Dam, she got away!" he giggled, "You keep scaring my girl's off!"

Batman circled him. "She's not your girl, Joker,"

The Joker raised an eyebrow. "Do I detect a note of jealously in that growly voice of yours Batty?"

"You need to go back to Arkham Joker, where they can help you,"

The Joker sighed dramatically.

"Why does _every body_ want to help me? Can't you see me smiling? I'm happy the way I am, _thank you_"

"I don't believe you…the things you have done make me doubt you. You could have killed Amelia West a dozen times except you haven't. What do you want with her?"

The Joker began to pace, running his hands through his hair.

"You know…maybe you're right Bats. I just want to be loved…I know that if someone invests their heart in me, I'll be good, I'll change. Do you think it's possible?"

"I think anything is possible where it concerns you Joker. But why her, of all people? She's been through enough in her life,"

The Joker gazed at him quizzically, linking his hands in front of him.

"Let me tell you a little story…about a boy who one day fell in love with the wrong girl…or you could say she was the right girl, just wrong for him! He saves her life then he leaves her…but part of him keeps thinking, maybe I'll go back…one day he sees her in the park, this park, on _that _carousel…but guess what…"

"She didn't remember you," Batman finished, the final piece of the story in place.

The Joker nodded violently, his tongue flicking to lick his lips.

"That made him a little mad…after all he'd done and she didn't even know his name!"

Batman stepped forward but the Joker skipped out of his reach. The clown flicked out his knife and the pair began to circle one another like a dance.

"She couldn't have known you, she was in trauma."

The Joker once again regarded him with a knowing look.

"Sounds like you're a little bit too familiar with her yourself. I don't know how that makes me feel…seeing how we're all sharing.." he rubbed his chest, agitated as though something was clawing at him inside, "I feel all…what's the word…jealous!"

His manic, chaotic laughter ran in Batman's ears.

He just hoped that he could distract The Joker long enough until Gordon got here with his back up. When it came to this clown, Batman took no chances.

In a second Batman flung a flare at The Joker's head, he had no time to react, exploding inches from his face, the gas made him dizzy and he leapt to the ground.

"I'm sorry we can't share her Batman but I got there first!" The Joker cried out as Batman appeared over him. The clown launched forward, having the pleasure of feeling his blade sink deep into that bat suit, watching in gleeful suspense as the Bat yelled, his grip loosening.

Undeterred Batman wrestled him back to the ground, binding his hands together behind his back. The Joker, face down in the grass, struggled defiantly as he was unceremoniously hauled to his feet.

"You're not touching her or anyone again Joker," Batman yelled in his face and the clown continued to grin.

Relieved to see the flashing lights of the cop cars in the distance, Batman dragged the Joker to the gates of Steeple Park.

"Don't you _want_ to know how the little love story ends Batman?" The Joker chided him.

Batman ignored him, slamming the clown's body into the Iron Gate, binding his arms to it like a sacrifice.

The Joker hadn't stopped his manic nervous laughter. Batman stared at him through the blackness of the mask and the Joker's face sobered.

"It ends with you in Arkham," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Well actually I have an alternate ending," he smiled, "She _throws_ herself into the fire…just cos she cant bear to be without him…and they burn together, their twisted little hearts as one, forever,"

Batman ploughed his fist into the Joker's face and had the brief pleasure of seeing the clown screw his face up in pain as his head cracked the gate.

"You don't love her," he yelled, "You don't know how to feel…if you did you could never have murdered Rachel…."

The Clown raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Me suspects the Bat has said too much," he giggled, "I'm not _getting _to you am I?"

Batman brought his face inches from The Joker's, his voice dark.

"If you _love_ her, really, if you can feel _anything_ for her…leave her alone. Because you'll only end up killing her, if you don't. And even you couldn't live with that,"

The sirens approaching jolted Batman back to reality. He turned deftly not wanting to be caught at the scene.

As he tracked swiftly across the park, the Joker's mad laughter rang in his ears.

"Who said anything about love?" The Joker screamed after him, squirming against the gate as the police ran towards him with their guns held high, "Maybe I just want to watch her burn!"

Amelia's bare feet hit the stone floor of her apartment block stairs, loosing her balance momentarily. She had run so fast that she hadn't taken a breath.

Gripping the staircase for balance, hand on her chest, she continued to run and didn't stop until she had locked her apartment door behind her.

Safely inside, she slid down the door onto the welcome mat, breathing hard.

"You're _so_ stupid!" she sobbed, exhausted from running, her chest tight.

She had walked, willingly and knowingly into The Joker's trap.

She felt utterly confused.

He said that she wanted to control him, to try to change him, but yet it seemed like some distant part of him was crying out for that change.

Amelia admitted to herself now that the reason she'd gone so willingly was because she wanted to see him, not the Joker, Jack. She'd wanted to see if some part of the boy she remembered was still there.

But in the park, she'd found the man he'd become and that man had other plans for her.

She shivered in disgust, standing weakly. Looking at her cell she saw that she'd had ten missed calls from Bruce. She threw the phone away from her miserably, not wanting to hear the concern in his voice.

After all he'd done for her and she'd nearly gotten herself killed! She hated herself for lying to him.

It was nearly four in the morning, her eyes were like slits but she knew she had to talk to someone.

She sat numbly at her kitchen counter and dialled a number.

The voice that answered on the tenth ring was bleary,

"Daddy?" she sobbed and she heard him clear his throat at the other end of the line.

"Millie…what's wrong? It's four in the morning!" he sounded frantic.

"I'm Ok….well I'm not Ok…Daddy, I remember everything that happened to Mom,"

She was sobbing down the phone. But hearing his voice at the other end, only served to remind her of what had happened. Of how he had done nothing to help them.

"Amelia, what happened to your Mother, wasn't your fault. You couldn't have done anything to help her that night,"

She pressed her mouth shut, forcing down the anger that was reaching its boiling point. After all these years and he still refused to accept responsibility for what happened.

"But Dad…" she whispered, "Why didn't you do something?"

The line was suddenly silent at the other end and she could hear her father breathing quietly. He was thinking.

"I think we need to talk about this another time, when you're better. You've been through an awful ordeal and everything is so fresh. You're not seeing things how they really happened, everything is mixed up…poor baby. Go back to sleep,"

"But Dad…"

"Millie_, please_. Don't you think this is hard for me! Why don't you make an appointment with that therapist of yours and you can talk it out with her? Or Bruce, he's always been there for you?"

"Yes," she replied weakly, "Yes, he has,"

"There you are! Now darling, I have meeting in three hours. But promise me, we will talk about this soon? I love you,"

"I love you too Daddy,"

The line went dead and she threw the phone back in its cradle. That was his answer to everything. Go back to therapy.

She remembered the arguments before the divorce. She remembered going with her Mother to hospital, preying this would be the last time she would put herself through the agonising procedure.

Abbott West used money to buy his way out of emotional confrontations. But he hadn't used it to save his own wife and child.

She stumbled into bed, cold and tired and slept fitfully. She dreamed of Jack and The Joker, the two very different images blurring into one.

When she woke with a start at five in the morning, she could have sworn that she'd seen a shadow by the bedside table. She flicked the bed side lamp on, her heart slowing when all she saw was the curtain blowing in the breeze.

She now suspected that Batman had been the one following her when she'd walked to the park earlier, his dark shape never completely out of sight.

She got up, aching all over and closed the window tight, gazing down at the traffic already building at this time in the morning.

Momentarily she stared at her reflection in the glass and a scream froze in her throat.

Stumbling she dashed to the bathroom and flicked on the bright florescent light, staring horrified at her face in the mirror. The frozen scream escaped her throat.

Her face was coloured white with thick, grease paint, crude finger marks running down her neck. Her eyes were like two black coals staring back at her and her mouth was fire engine red, a nasty, cruel smile curling up over her cheeks.

On the bathroom mirror there was a note, again, childishly scrawled, written in red ink.

Amelia ripped it off the mirror, furiously and held it up with shaking fingers.

She read the words over and over, not daring to look at herself again. The image in the mirror was sickening. She didn't dare imagine how, yet again, he'd strolled into her home, hovered over her bed and did this to her while she slept.

She collapsed on the bathroom floor, alone and shaking, the note fluttering to her ground beside her.

It read,

"_**Two of a Kind,"**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Giving in to you**

Bruce sat quietly in the cave, his thoughts chaotic and disturbed. He'd gotten out.

He had practically put the Joker on a gilded plate for them and the Gotham Police still managed to let him escape.

Bruce was angry, tired and most of all confused.

He knew that some part of Amelia would want to go to the Joker. The Joker had that kind of magnetic pull on people. He knew that she would try to plea to the boy she thought still existed somewhere under that makeup.

But he hadn't expected _that_ kiss.

From his hiding place, Bruce had watched, his eyes widening in shock. He didn't know what he felt.

Horror, disappointment and disgust, were a few words that sprang to mind.

But he had to admit that there was something else burning in his chest, making him seethe.

He was jealous. And the worst part was that he didn't know if the jealousy sprang from the fact that he had lost the love of his life, who the Joker had murdered, or if he really did feel something for Amelia.

He had always loved Amelia, treated her like a sister, an annoying little sister. He had never really looked at her that way, because Rachel had always been there.

Amelia outshone Rachel in the Beauty stakes, even from when they were kids. Amelia was your typical little princess, blonde, cute and blue eyed.

But their relationship had been based on more than that. She had a big, kind heart. She looked after her friends and had looked after him after Rachel's death.

But seeing her, tangled with him on the grass, _kissing_ him back, was too much to bare.

Bruce realised how lonely he was, how he needed someone, someone like Amelia who understood him.

Why the hell did the Joker think he was good enough for her?

Watching them together was like a knife in his chest, and the Joker was twisting it, laughing as he did so.

Bruce rubbed his eyes and jolted as Alfred appeared next to him with a tray of sandwiches.

"How's the war wound sir?" Alfred asked referring to the bandage around Bruce's chest where the Joker had stabbed him.

"Its alright, it wasn't too deep," he said in a low voice.

Alfred looked at him and could see how hurt he was, how lonely. Bruce had told him what he had witnessed in the park.

"You can't blame her for Rachel sir," he whispered, placing a warm, old hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"I don't blame her Alfred…but…well maybe I'm angry with her…I mean how _could _she? He murdered her best friend,"

"And how do you know that what she feels isn't real? Or what he feels for that matter?"

"I _don't _think for a moment that the Joker has any real feelings for her….its like you said about that bandit in Burma. Some men just want to watch the world burn,"

Alfred pressed his lips together. Bruce did not want to hear about redemption. He was lost in his own pain. Not only had the Joker taken Rachel from him, but he seemed to be working his chaotic charm on Amelia too.

That one night the Joker had taken more from Bruce Wayne than the Joker could ever contemplate. Not only was Rachel dead, but so was Harvey Dent, Gotham's one hope of a future. He was also Bruce's one hope of a normal life; he had hoped that with Harvey cleaning up Gotham, he could leave the Batman behind him. But now with Harvey dead and buried and his honour still intact, it was Batman who had been vilified. Batman carried the guilt and the blame and had become what Gotham needed, though they did not realise it.

"So, The Joker is on the loose again?" Alfred said, his voice echoing around the cave, disrupting Bruce from his dark thoughts, "Where do you think he'll strike next?"

Bruce slipped a pink envelope out of the case file and showed Alfred the ornate invitation.

"The Gotham Charity Ball?" Alfred read aloud, "What makes you so sure?"

Bruce sighed. "That's where Amelia will be, tomorrow night,"

The warmth from the coffee mug was slowly thawing Amelia's frozen hands.

She sat back in the cosy chair in Jenny Maddle's office and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

Across the office Jenny cast her a sad look. Her heart had sunk when Amelia had turned up on her door step. She hoped the treachery she felt inside didn't show on her face

"I've made a few notes," Jenny said, taking a seat opposite Amelia,

"Now we have all the pieces of the puzzle, it should make your therapy much more effective. Have you talked with your Father?"

Amelia pulled a face. "He's busy,"

Jenny frowned. "But surely…?"

Amelia held up her hands, irritated at the mention of her Father.

"Lets not," she said miserably, then she added thinking aloud more than anything, "You know, my Mom never mentioned Jack, ever. I mean I know she was on pretty high meds, all my life she took anti depressants, but never to mention him…"

Jenny looked thoughtful. "Maybe it was all part of the rouse, to keep you in the dark. They were just trying to protect you. Did you and your Mother ever talk properly about what happened?"

Amelia shook her head sadly. "Maybe she thought it was better forgotten?"

"But what I _don't _understand is why you went to him like that, after everything the Joker put you through!" Jenny said suddenly.

Amelia shook her head, tired of defending herself.

"I wanted to see if I could reason with him!"

Jenny laughed at that. "Reason with him? You put yourself in such danger Amelia,"

Amelia's face was flaming, knowing what her friend was saying was true.

"He opened my eyes Jenny," she said after a long pause at which Jenny raised an eyebrow but Amelia continued.

"Say what you like about him…he opened my eyes at last. After that night all those years ago, my father put me into so many different types of therapy that I lost any real memories of the event. Jack was forgotten, what happened was forgotten and it's made me realise that I have never been able to live a stable life. I have spent my adult life jumping from one thing to another, whether it be my career, men…."

"And you believe that is all because you lost memories about your Mother's accident?" Jenny sounded unconvinced.

"Yes!" Amelia insisted, "No…it's not about the accident, really. It's like loosing a part of yourself, being denied the truth. My whole life they tried to protect me from the truth and I turned into such a flake! I've never been strong because I never had to be,"

"That's not true," Jenny disagreed, "You don't give yourself enough credit. Your childhood friend was blown up six months ago and you've been a tower of strength to those who needed you. Your mother committed suicide and your still standing! And believe me I have patients who would be begging me to commit them right now if they had experienced what the Joker put you through the last few days!"

Amelia sighed deeply.

"Maybe I was just meant to remember…and he showed me how,"

Jenny shifted uncomfortably in her seat wanting desperately to tell her friend the horrible, betrayal she'd been forced into and the other half of her fearing for her life.

"Why do you keep deluding yourself Amelia?" she said harshly, "Why are you so reluctant to see the real truth?"

Amelia bristled. "I'm sorry?"

"What makes you so sure that he has any kind of soul left to reach out to? Why are you so sure that this isn't another of his games and you just happen to be the pawn?"

She folded her hands tightly around the mug.

"But I feel like I know Jack…"

"Jack is _gone_!" Jenny said, "The past is just that, the _past _and to him this is all a game. He is using you!"

There was a stony silence between them, each lost in their own dark thoughts.

Finally Jenny reached out and touched Amelia's hand.

"Look I'm sorry…I'm just worried about you,"

Amelia smiled sadly and the two women embraced tightly.

"I'd better go," Amelia said at last, "I have to get someone to change the locks on my apartment…after my little makeover last night,"

Amelia didn't really know how to process what had happened last night. The fact that The Joker could just get to her, when and wherever he chose made her feel powerless and weak.

_Two of a kind._

"Are you going to the Charity Ball tonight?" Jenny's voice broke her thoughts.

Amelia shrugged. "I don't know…I don't feel much like partying right now,"

Jenny made a face. "It'll do you good. And besides didn't you already hire your costume?"

"Well, yes…but…"

"I insist you go Amelia…doctor's orders!"

Amelia laughed softly. "Well if you insist Doctor Maddle," she said grabbing her green coat from the back of the chair.

Jenny showed her to the door and watched her leave. A rock was forming in the pit of her stomach. She felt wretched, the guilt of her betrayal washing over her. She would never forgive herself for this, but then she thought of her Father in Gotham General and knew she had to protect him.

When she went back into the office something was off. The room was cold like a door had been left open.

Shivering she saw that the window was wide open. Catching sight of her thin, pale reflection in the mirror, she didn't scream straight away when she saw the clown sitting in one of her consulting chairs; the very one Amelia had been sat on moments ago.

The Joker made a 'hush' motion, pressing his finger to his red lips.

Jenny began to tremble.

"What's the matter Miss Maddle?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm, "Was I supposed to make an appointment?"

Jenny lowered herself into the chair opposite him. "How long have you been here?"

"Oh long enough," he laughed, "You were saying mean things about me to my ballerina,"

Jenny straightened up trying to make herself look unafraid. She was terrified. To see him sitting in her warm, cosy apartment, looking that way, was surreal.

"I haven't betrayed you," she answered firmly, "She will be going to the ball tonight…I got you all the information on her didn't I? _When will this stop?_"

He leaned closer and Jenny automatically recoiled back in her seat, trying to avoid the black eyes leering at her.

"It stops when I _say _it stops Miss Maddle…but, yes, you have done a good job of things…I could never have gotten this far if it hadn't been for you,"

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "My Father…"

The Joker looked bored, sighing deeply.

"Yes, Daddy's doing _just_ fine. He no longer needs an extra special nurse at his bedside,"

Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you,"

The Joker's manic grin returned. "Oh no need to thank me Miss Maddle…its all thanks to your good work…why you've done such a good job of betraying your friend, hacking into her email accounts, her mail, getting me a copy of her door key…"

"Stop," Jenny cried, "I can't bare it. What are you going to do to her?"

The Joker leapt forward, his knife springing into view. He was straddling Jenny's lap in an instant, her face pressed closely to his. He pressed the knife to her temple, tracing a line down to the white flesh of her throat.

"Now why does _everybody _just _presume_, I'm going to kill her?" he giggled manically, his black stare boring straight through her, "Am I really that predictable?"

Jenny's words were lodged in her throat, unable to speak because his gloved hands were closing around her slim neck.

"Maybe I just want a friend…someone to share the good times and the bad. I think I'd be a good friend, don't you Miss Maddle?"

Weakly, her heart failing her, Jenny managed to nod her head. The blade was slipping dangerously close to her jugular and she squeezed her eyes shut, tears dropping down her cheeks.

"Ahh…you look sad," he whispered in her ear, "Why don't we put a smile back on that pretty face of yours?"

Jenny's eyes flung open and knew that his laughing, demonic face was the last thing she would ever see.

Amelia waited in her apartment for Bruce's Limo to arrive. She stood at the window, watching the city dully. Out there people were getting ready for a night out, putting on their makeup, their new outfits.

Up here, alone, Amelia felt like she was wading through tar.

All afternoon she'd slept, restless, fitful, hanging out the time before she would have to haul herself up and get ready.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes.

She saw his face, his black eyes inches from hers. She felt the knife nick at her flesh and the warmth of his mouth, tracing along the shallow wound.

Amelia touched her neck, felt the small lesion there and shivered.

What was happening to her?

The darkness of her apartment threatened to engulf her, swallow her up. She didn't want to fight it.

He wanted her. She could feel his pull; hear his laugh in her head. She closed her eyes and felt his hands on her body, making her tremble.

She wanted him, too.

Amelia groaned at the realisation, hitting her like a punch in the chest.

Jack was still alive. He was there; somewhere and she had come close to reaching him.

Amelia felt tight and uncomfortable in her pink peacock costume. The laces of the corseted bodice were pinching her and she wished she hadn't so willingly agreed when Jenny had insisted that the costume was so 'her'.

It was a tight strapless corset, encrusted with thousands of pink diamantes. The skirt was entirely made from plumes of long, soft pale pink feathers that floated around her like a cloud.

It was a beautiful costume and the jewelled masque fitted perfectly with it, but Amelia felt like a prisoner and knew that eating would be unlikely tonight, unless she wanted to waddle home.

Bruce was picking her up and she felt nervous about seeing him.

He always had possessed a talent of reading her face and she'd lied to him so furiously over the past two days. Every time he'd called she filled her voice with a fake optimism, something she'd learned from her Mother over the years.

"I'll be at your apartment at eight…don't come out till you see my car!" he'd warned.

Amelia knew that he meant well and he cared so deeply for her, but part of her didn't want to see the anxious look in his eyes, she didn't deserve it. She felt like a captive bird, being watched from behind bars, just waiting for the Joker to come and get her.

The waiting was what was killing her. Part of her wanted to run back to that Carousel, screaming for him to come and take her.

**A/N **

**Hope you are still all enjoying, please, please keep the thoughts coming.**

**Also, I've noticed that some writers name music tracks that inspired them and thought I would just say that Alannis Morrisette's 'Uninvited' is what gave me the idea for this fic! xx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Rescue Me**

Bruce shifted uncomfortably in the back of the Limo as they pulled up to Amelia's apartment building.

Alfred watched him from the driver's seat, already tense himself.

"What do you expect to happen tonight Master Bruce?" he asked.

"I don't know Alfred; all I know is that we have to be ready. He'll make his entrance tonight, of that I'm sure,"

He stopped abruptly when he saw Amelia on the steps of her apartment building.

Amelia waved to him when she saw the Limo pull up.

Bruce swallowed. She looked divine. Like a princess from a fairy tale. The feathers from the skirt of the costume spilled out around her, making her appear like she was floating gracefully down the steps. Her gold hair was woven into ringlets that fell down her back, like Rapunzel in the tower.

If she was still suffering from the effects of what The Joker had put her through, you could see no signs of it. Her skin was like porcelain and her eyes gleaming brightly.

Bruce had never seen her look more beautiful.

"Hey you," she smiled, piling her massive costume into the back of the car, feathers spilling over his legs. She kissed him on the cheek with cold lips.

"Its freezing!" she said, "Are you Ok, Bruce?"

Bruce realised he was gaping. "Uhh…I'm great…you look.."

"Ridiculous, I know!" she laughed, fluffing the feathers with her gloved hands, "I look like a giant flamingo. It seemed like a good idea at the time,"

"No, I was going to say…"

"I'm sorry about not being in contact the last few days," she interrupted, "It's been a bit of a weird time, you know. I just needed some space,"

"No, no. Of course you did…Alfred, hadn't we better get going?"

"Yes Master Bruce," the older man replied from the front seat.

They chatted as Alfred drove them to Gotham Zoo. Amelia's mood was light and animated. She laughed and kept the conversation flowing, almost desperately, Bruce noticed.

Amelia felt self conscious and very aware of Bruce's eyes on her. She recognised that look in his eyes and it was one that she had never expected from _him,_ of all people.

His eyes darkened when he looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time. As though they were strangers, not life long play mates.

Men looked at her that way all the time. The Joker had looked at her that way. So had Jack.

When they arrived at the Zoo, they joined a queue of celebrities, pulling up on the red carpet.

It was a dazzling event and it seemed as though everyone important in Gotham had arrived to take part.

As they were ushered inside the Zoo restaurant, which had been transformed into a glittering Ball room, Amelia craned her neck above the sea of heads, trying to spot her friend Jenny.

The room was filled with colour, peacock blue, brilliant yellow and flashes of mauve moved before her eyes. Orange drapes hung from the ceiling and black candelabras were dotted around, their seductive candlelight, tracing shapes across the walls. From every table, tall glass vases were stood filled with large, gerberas pointing skyward, their pink tips just about to bloom.

Amelia wished the colour of the event could lift her mood, but she felt so anxious, a large rock forming in her stomach.

"Drink?" Bruce smiled handing her a flute of champagne.

She accepted. "Just the one, this dress is on the tight side!"

He wished that she knew just how amazing she looked. Everyone was staring at her. "Dance with me?" he nodded towards the already crowded dance floor.

Smiling, suddenly bashful, she took his hand.

On the dance floor, Bruce pressed closely to her.

"You look amazing, you know that?"

Amelia laughed.

"What's funny about that? It's true,"

Amelia knew where this was going. He was attracted to her! She could spot it a mile off. Her best friend found her attractive.

They were swaying in time to the soft music, he was so handsome, so wonderful and she wished desperately that he was someone else!

"Thanks," she said, embarrassed, "You look gorgeous yourself as always!"

"You seem tense," he pressed her.

"I'm fine, really!" she said.

"You keep looking over my shoulder," his face was crumpling a little bit.

"Its nothing Bruce…I was expecting to see my friend Jenny here that's all,"

"I'm sure he'll turn up,"

Amelia froze and looked at him suddenly. "_He?_"

It took all of Bruce's talent to remain composed after his obvious blunder.

"Sorry?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "You said 'he'?"

Bruce laughed. "Slip of the tongue. My, you are jumpy tonight!"

Amelia hid her face over his shoulder, her heart racing.

She was screwing this evening up so badly. She needed to control her emotions.

Bruce's heart slowed, he had successfully turned the tables on her again.

There was some commotion going on in the lobby and a few of the other couples on the dance floor had turned their heads towards the noise.

Bruce and Amelia did the same, momentarily stopping.

Amelia recognised Commissioner Gordon stepping into the Ball room, his hands on his hips, his face tight with stress.

"What are the police doing here?" Amelia thought aloud and Bruce let go of her waist.

"I don't know…wait there,"

Amelia frowned. "Where are you off to?"

"Just going to check in with Alfred, I worry about him parked out there alone,"

Amelia smiled. "Yes, go!"

He smiled back at her and his hand lingered on hers. Then his head disappeared into the crowd, she watched him leave.

It was a welcome distraction and she breathed a sigh of relief. The other dancers soon forgot the police presence, happy to carry on with their evening.

Amelia was about to step off the dance floor when an arm linked around her waist, spinning her around.

The man holding her was tall and she recognised his body pressing into hers. He was wearing a mask that had a long orange beak, like a crow.

Amelia felt her heart shift up a gear, hammering into the chest of her dance partner.

He leaned into her neck and she gasped, feeling his lips so close to her bare skin.

"Jeez, I thought he'd never leave," The Joker chuckled.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed at him, continuing to dance though her legs felt like led, "The police are here, you could get caught!"

"Ahhh, it's nice that you care Ballerina, but I really wanted to join in the party. Its not often I get to dress up! And as for the cops, don't worry I invited them,"

She glanced at his horrible bird mask.

"Can you guess what I am?" he asked playfully, "Wait I'll tell you…I'm a Mockingbird…get it?"

A smile was playing at the corner of her lips but she forced it away.

"Very imaginative,"

"I thought so…I racked my brains for ages to come up with that….and here you are…looking, well I must say_, beautiful_,"

He breathed the last word and she didn't know why it made her tingle to hear it.

"Is this the part where you kidnap me?"

The Joker looked mock affronted. "Well I was going to buy you a drink first, but if you want to skip to the chase…" he pulled out the knife and she saw him sneak it down to her waist line. She pushed his hand away.

"I'll come quietly," she said then instantly regretted her words, her face flaming red and he began to laugh.

"I've never met a woman who does that but, well, great, I don't have to pretend I care!"

His gloved hand was warm on her back as he steered her off of the crowded dance floor. They were headed towards the fire exit. Amelia tried to make eye contact with some of the other dancers but they looked too caught up in the glitz and colour of the event.

Amelia cast a glance back over her shoulder, trying desperately to spot Bruce in the crowd. Where had he gone? Talk about timing.

"After you, princess," he laughed, his hand on the heavy steel door, it clunked open and still no one noticed as he roughly pushed her through it.

The night air hit her in the face and she immediately folded her arms around her. The Joker pulled off the bird mask, throwing it aside.

He pushed her roughly towards the fire exit stairs, her skin contracting from the freezing cold.

To her surprise he let his long coat fall off his shoulders, wrapping it around her.

Amelia looked at him and grimaced at the sight of his ugly makeup. He had obviously been hot under the mask, as the black eye makeup had run leaving streaks tracking down his face like tears.

She looked down at the narrow stair well, gingerly stepping forward and he caught her upper arm.

"No, Ballerina, up we go!"

"Up!" she looked horrified staring up at the slim step ladder that led all the way to the roof.

"I'll be behind you; I won't look up your dress I swear!"

Amelia's face fell. She hated climbing, especially in heels. She preyed that any minute Bruce would realise she was missing.

Taking the metal wrung in her trembling hands she hoisted her weight up, her feet found the bottom wrung clumsily.

"Keep going, if you fall, so do I,"

The words were oddly reassuring and she continued up, becoming more exhausted by the second.

Her heart lurched as one of her stilettos slipped off and fell, missing the Joker's face by inches.

"Perhaps your Bruce Wayne will find that in the morning Cinderella," he laughed but now she was even more unsteady.

Finally after what felt like an eternity, she hoisted herself over the brick wall of the roof top terrace and collapsed on the concrete, breathing hard.

The Joker jumped over the wall to join her with ease and landed next to her.

He took her ankle in his hand and pulled off the other shoe, tossing it aside.

She propped herself up on her elbows, staring at him relentlessly.

He sat beside her cross legged on the cold concrete. He took out his knife and tossed it from one hand to the other, the movement oddly familiar.

"So what now?" she snapped impatiently.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "So that's you're angry voice Ballerina, I like it,"

"Well_, Jack_," she liked the reaction she got from that, he visibly flinched, "I think I'm entitled after making me climb a fifth teen foot ladder in the cold, with one shoe! I'd like to know how the rest of the date is expected to unfold,"

He grinned, licking his lips, pointing the hilt of the blade at her playfully.

"You know you _will_ keep calling me that name…one time I might just snap!"

Amelia sat up.

"I'll make you a deal," she said and he looked up, his eyes ignited with interest and fun.

"I'll call you…the Joker," she made a face, "And you stop calling me that ridiculous nick name,"

"Don't you like Ballerina? I thought it was cute…it's so you!"

She scowled at him. "You hate your real name and I hate Ballerina,"

"Why?" he was curious and she rolled her eyes.

"I don't know…call it a dream unfulfilled. And it's not my name,"

He cocked his head to one side for a moment, considering her deal.

"Fine," he said at last giving her a mock bow, "Amelia,"

The sound of him actually saying her name sent a chill up her spine. She thought that he had never called her anything but that nickname, or some term of endearment. It sounded odd but in a way, right.

She gathered up the feather skirt of her dress and stood, her feet numb from the cold.

From the rooftop the whole of Gotham was lit up, twinkling beautiful against the dark night sky.

She sighed, the view the same one as from her parent's ballroom, a sad memory coming back to her.

"You can see Wayne Towers and everything," The Joker spoke and she jumped, not realising that he was standing so close behind her.

She turned, her arms folded across her chest and his face was sombre for once. His streaked makeup made him look more sad than menacing. He looked down at her, his gaze locked with hers for a long time.

"Why have you brought me up here?" she asked, suddenly tired, "Surely you know that someone will realise I'm gone in a few more minutes?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You mean the playboy prince?"

Amelia rolled her eyes at him. "Don't call Bruce that,"

"Perhaps I just wanted to finish that dance?"

Amelia laughed. "You brought me up here to dance with me?"

He cocked his head to one side.

"No, I brought you up here as bait for the Bat, but if you want to romanticise things fine…be my guest!"

"You just said…God, you're confusing!" she cried. He took a mock bow and began to chuckle.

"Hmm…keeps things interesting doesn't it?"

Suddenly he lunged forward, grabbing her waist. He pulled her against him and began dragging her across the roof top in a crazy, whirling dance. Amelia's feet stung from the cold ground, she pushed against his chest to try to free herself, but he was holding her too tight, his gloved fingers digging into her wrist.

"You're hurting me!" she cried but instead he flung her to the ground. Her head smacked the concrete and she let out a sob of pain. Before she could protest she was back on her feet, being hauled around again, half dragged, half supported by the Joker.

"Seeing as we're taking a trip down memory lane…" he leaned in to her ear, catching her lobe with his teeth and she winced, "Perhaps you don't recall the day I decided to come back to you…"

Amelia's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?" Her head was still throbbing.

"So that part hasn't come back yet hmm?" he grabbed her neck painfully and forced her to look at him.

His eyes were black hole and she could see anger, boiling under that clown makeup. She wondered desperately what she had done to make him so angry, so bitter.

Suddenly they had stopped dancing and he was holding her firmly by each wrist, she couldn't look away even if she wanted to.

"I watched you…for a year after that night, everyday I followed you…to the park, to the zoo…anywhere daddy took his princess I tagged along…"

Amelia stared at him, shock bolting through her.

"Everyday I followed…I watched you at dance lessons…I saw daddy drop you off. I was good at hiding, you never saw me…you never saw anyone. You were locked up inside your own head, blankly staring, not living just moving through life in a dull sleep. I kept wishing you'd look up, see me, but you never did. You don't know how many times I _walked right past you _and you didn't even glance at me!"

Amelia's eyes welled up. His face was so contorted in anger that she wanted to hold him.

"Jack..I didn't know…"

"Shut up!" he yelled into her face and she shuddered, "I saw you with your friends…with _him, _your precious Mr Wayne, even he couldn't make you smile. One day you stopped dancing, daddy dropped you off at the school but you'd wait for him to drive off and then you'd run away. I followed you…"

Amelia's mind suddenly was brilliantly clear. It was like someone was telling her about an old movie and a scene popped straight into her head.

"Steeple Park…" she whispered, "The Carousel!"

The Joker smiled manically, a laugh that was more like a cry escaped his lips.

"_And we have a winner!!_"

Amelia shook her head; her wrists were aching from where he was holding her so tightly.

The Joker was too caught up in the story to see that she was shivering violently, the cold concrete seeping up her legs, penetrating her bones.

"One day I couldn't take it anymore…I had to talk to you….I sat down right next to you on that carousel and you didn't look up…I spoke to you and you finally acknowledged I was there…"

Amelia's tears spilled over.

"Don't…please..."

"You stared at me and…nothing. You looked at me like I wasn't there. I said, 'Ballerina it's me, don't you remember?"

Amelia let out a sob and suddenly she moved forward, surprising him. He let her sore wrists slip from his grasp and she fell into his arms. Amelia laid her head on his chest and sobbed.

Tentatively she felt his arms sneak around her tiny form, as though he were cradling a small child. He rest his chin on her head and she wound his arms up his back.

She could feel the cold, wet patch on his shirt front, where her tears had stained it.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I'm sorry I hurt you,"

She looked up at him, her chin on his chest. It was amazing that she could now see straight through the makeup. His features, his eyes, he was the boy she remembered.

Amelia couldn't understand how she'd missed it before.

His mouth crashed against hers in a brutal, hard kiss but this time she responded. She placed her hands either side of his face and admired how easy it was to take control, within seconds the kiss was softer, but urgent. She gasped as his mouth trailed fiery kisses down her throat, her bare shoulder.

She knew this was crazy, if the police were to show up now and witnessed this scene, what would they think? What would Bruce think?

She didn't care, her heart was beating frantically, desperate to show him the love he'd been denied and at the same time a wanton, abandonment came over her, wishing he would just take her now.

His hands snaked downwards to her bottom, pinching it hard so she cried out in pain, ignoring it he backed her up against a fire door that led back down to the restaurant below.

Amelia felt an urgent pull from her body, that need to be had so desperate and hard to ignore.

"Stop, we can't do this!" she said into his mouth, as he brought his lips back to hers.

He pulled away, his eyes dark with heat. He winked at her suggestively.

"My place or yours?" he giggled. She pushed him away with what little force she had left in her body. It made her head spin at how quickly his mood could change from wickedly childish to delinquently evil. When he hurt her he meant to do it.

"You killed my best friend," she said aloud, her eyes filling up again.

Saying the words out loud made it all real, at last she could see clearly and this fog that he'd cast was lifting before her eyes.

"You murdered her…you kidnapped her…"

The Joker raised an eyebrow at her. "I may be a bit unpredictable Amelia, but my memory is just fine!"

She threw her hands up in the air.

"And you really _don't_ care do you? Rachel….must of been so terrified of you and you wiped her out just like that!" she clicked her fingers, "Her last moments…what was she thinking? Was she crying?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "You want me to tell you?"

Amelia shook her head. "I couldn't bare it if I knew. And Bruce and Harvey, you destroyed them both,"

He began to pace in front of her.

"Gee I wish Batman would hurry it along don't you?" he mocked her, "One minute I thought I was about to get laid and the next minute she wants to talk about her 'feelings'. Don't you have a shrink for that?"

"Shut up you bastard!" she yelled, "Jack really is gone isn't it? He couldn't have done that to Rachel. What _happened_ to you?"

Suddenly his fist collided with her jaw and she saw stars, literally knocked off her feet she fell backwards. Her head smacked against the concrete below and she yelped.

She touched her chin and felt the swelling, wincing as her cold fingers touched her burning hot flesh.

The Joker was on his knees next to her, scooping her up into his lap.

Amelia didn't have the strength to push him away, her vision was still blurred. No one had ever punched her before. She'd seen it in films hundreds of times. The shock of actually been hit in the face was still making her reel.

She felt the warmth of his body melting into her and despite hating him furiously she moved closer, her body wracked with cold.

"You shouldn't say things like that…it's like you want me to hurt you…"

He cradled her closer and began to rock her.

"Whatever makes you feel better about yourself," she whispered, knowing she was pushing him.

Tilting her head she looked up at his mangled face. She reached up and gently touched his lips with her fingers, tracing them up along the lacerations, now healed but leaving him with an everlasting grin.

He watched closely and finally took her hand away and wrapped it in his.

"You are a brave little thing aren't you? I think I hit you too hard,"

"I'm sorry that I didn't recognise you on the Carousel that day…but you don't seriously blame me do you? I was a mess…my parents were fighting all the time. My Mother was always in hospital…my Father couldn't bare to be around either of us,"

"No Ballerina," he said, his voice low, regretful and tired, "I don't blame you. But when I saw you on the news, your mom's suicide…I thought it'd be fun to hook back up again. You know, like old times?"

Amelia gave him a slow smile. "I don't get you,"

"And I don't get you; we're two of a kind,"

Slowly, Amelia heaved herself into a sitting position.

They looked at each other for a long time and knew that this was one dance that would last forever. Neither could understand the other. She hated him for what he had become but there was still something there, some pull.

Amelia supposed that he hated what had happened to her over the years. He hated the Princess she'd turned into, the gossip columns, the parties. What had happened to the little Ballerina that had so much fight in her?

Up until two days ago, Amelia had forgotten that that child had existed, until he showed her.

But whatever happened they still had those three days. They still had that dance in the attic. And that first kiss.

The Joker pulled her against him, her head cradled under his chin.

"I wish we could go back," she whispered, tears welling, her hand playing with his green neck tie absently.

His mouth was near her cheek and she heard a soft moan in the back of his throat. His lips moved across her hair towards her ear. She heard his voice, but at first it was barely audible.

"You have to save me," he whispered.

Amelia pulled away suddenly, unable to believe what she'd just heard.

"Did you mean that?" she gasped.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. "Yes, unfortunately,"

Suddenly a shadow loomed over them, blackening out the stars in the night sky. Amelia lifted her eyes, jumping in surprise as the figure loomed over them both, the figure that had followed her through Steeple Park that night.

"Oh, now the fun begins," the Joker chuckled.


	15. Chapter 15

**Who you really are**

The Batman's face was like stone and his eyes were like two black holes boring down at them. Amelia tore her eyes away from the intensity of his stare, it making her uneasy. Why was he looking at her like that?

Finally he looked at The Joker, who had climbed to his feet, towering protectively over Amelia. She crawled out of the way hurriedly knowing something bad was about to happen.

Amelia huddled further inside the overcoat that the Joker had given her and watched them closely from her place of safety. She had scooted near the fire exit door and was pressed closely against it.

The Joker was standing, legs apart with his knife flicked out, tossing it casually from one hand to the other.

Batman stood firm, his body looked like a weapon. That night in the park Amelia hadn't gotten a good look at him but was shocked at how tall he was. He was enormous and that black suit only served to make him look more lithe and meanacing.

"Sorry to interrupt your…private moment," Batman said, his voice more like a growl. He looked briefly over at Amelia, his eyes locking with hers for just a moment.

But a moment was all Amelia needed.

She swallowed hard. This couldn't be real. No, she must still dazed from where The Joker had hit her in the face. But she could have sworn she recognised those eyes, just for a split second.

They were so sad.

"There are people who are missing Miss West downstairs; you can't have her all to yourself Joker,"

The Joker folded his arms behind his back and laughed gleefully.

"And here _you_ are…the predictable hero, come to rescue fair maiden. Miss West doesn't need rescuing…she wants to stay with me!"

Batman looked at her sharply and Amelia rose to her feet. She shrugged off the overcoat and let it fall to the ground.

Slowly she walked towards him and then turned, standing beside Batman.

"Jack…" she said, her voice pleading, "If you truly meant what you just said…then there's only one way that can happen, you need to go back to Arkham,"

The Joker broke out into a fit of hysterical giggles.

Amelia glanced up timidly at Batman and knew now that she hadn't been imagining things.

All this time! Her brave, kind best friend had hidden this from her.

Bruce clocked the quickly developing bruise on her jaw. He reached out his hand to her face.

"He hit you," his voice was engulfed with hatred.

Suddenly and out of nowhere the Joker had closed the gap between them, he ran full pelt at Batman, taking him by surprise and knocking him off his feet.

Straddling his chest The Joker began to hammer his fists into Batman's face. Every blow sent shockwaves through Amelia's body.

"_Jack stop it_!" she screamed grabbing his shoulders to try and pull him away.

The Joker seized her wrist, twisted it hard so it cracked and carelessly threw her aside as though she were a rag doll.

That was all the incentive Batman needed. He stood in one fluid motion, taking the Joker by the lapels and throwing him across the concrete.

Amelia winced as she heard his body smash to the floor. He gave a yelp in pain but was on his feet in moments.

Cradling her wrist, which she was sure was broken, Amelia tried to stand.

The Joker and Batman circled one another like sharks. Each threw the other sickening, defeating blows, and yet they kept getting up, kept fighting.

In comparison the Joker appeared wiry and thin to Batman's thick, muscled bulk. And yet The Joker climbed to his feet after each hit, though he looked exhausted from pain. He was hot and sweaty, his makeup running down his neck.

"Please stop Jack," Amelia cried out to him her face now sticky with tears.

He looked at her and gave her a wink.

Amelia sobbed frantically. One was going to kill the other; it was just a question of who caved in first. She looked at Batman, who despite his appearance, was faltering. He swayed slightly on his feet, pain and exhaustion washing over him.

Gradually the police, had appeared on the roof carrying large guns they climbed over the roof top, appeared from windows. They began to circle the three of them.

Amelia heard a rumbling noise and then the roof was alight as a black Helicopter appeared over the building, circling low and her heart fell.

The Helicopter rushed past their heads, sending Amelia's feather dress flying in the air. Someone with a megaphone was leaning out of the Helicopter door.

"_Batman…Joker…Drop your weapons and let the girl go,_"

They both looked up momentarily and that moment was all The Joker needed. He flung himself at the Bat, surging his knife through the Bat suit with ferocity, repeatedly stabbing him all over. Batman let forth a roar of anguish and pain.

"_Bruce_!" Amelia screamed. This time she hurled all the power she had at the Joker, literally knocking him flying and landing on top of him. The pain in her wrist sent her reeling.

"Jack please..." she held him down tightly, his face inches from hers.

He laughed. "So we're back to nicknames, Ballerina,"

Amelia choked, tears thick in her throat.

"Joker…I _love_ you," she said, desperate and pleading, "Stop this now,"

His face contorted in what looked like laugh but it never quite got there. She searched his face for the response she wanted but someone was to interrupt.

"Alright up you two! And keep you're hands in the air or we'll shoot!"

Amelia stared at the Joker and he rolled his eyes at her.

Two Police officers had cornered them and held their guns high. Both Amelia and The Joker climbed unsteadily to their feet.

"Drop the knife clown!" the younger female officer shouted, her voice clear and calm.

Amelia flung her eyes at Bruce and saw he was still sprawled on the ground, breathing hard, but she could see no signs of the blood that should have been gushing from him.

The male cop, spoke into one of his walkies.

"Commissioner we have The Batman and The Joker, send more back up,"

"Bru-Batman…are you alright?" Amelia called and he nodded, barely able to catch his breath.

"Don't move….you're surrounded!" the female cop cried as Amelia made a move towards Bruce's deathly form.

"Stay put Princess," The Joker hissed at her. Bruce nodded at her to listen to the Joker and Amelia swallowed, casting a glance at the helicopter that hovered threateningly above their heads.

"She said drop the knife!" the male cop growled and the Joker stepped forward, twirling the knife in his hand.

"Sure, sure," he said, his voice soothing and low, "I'll come quietly Officer,"

He threw Amelia a look over his shoulder and winked at her.

Then too many things happened at once. The Joker lurched backwards and grabbed Amelia roughly around the waist, throwing her in front of him like a body shield.

He pressed the knife to her breast bone, the blade edge slicing the soft flesh there, a steam of blood rushing down the front of her pink bodice.

It surprisingly didn't hurt, it just stung, but Amelia still gasped from the shock of it.

Bruce made a move to run to her but the cop was on him with the gun in his face.

"Don't anyone move!" the cop screamed, his eyes flinging from Batman to the Joker and to the blood running down Amelia's costume.

"What are you doing?" Amelia hissed at the Joker. He pressed his lips to her ear, his chin on her shoulder.

"Getting us out of here," he whispered.

The Joker placed the knife to her breast again, pointing it dagger down. The Joker laughed, squeezing Amelia to make her yelp.

"No one wants to see Gotham's _princess _with a knife through her heart on the front page of the Tribune tomorrow morning! So why don't you be good little cops and let us go?" the Joker cackled, his voice high pitched.

"Don't be a moron Joker!" the female cop said, as another officer joined her, "Just let Miss West go. Our orders are to shoot to kill!"

"Ohhh gosh!" The Joker giggled, "Now you have me cornered like an animal…who knows what I might do…what do you think Bats?"

Batman looked at him from his position on the ground. He was still breathing like a wounded animal, clutching his side in pain.

"Please…" he begged, his voice low, "Let her go,"

Amelia had been aware that in the last few seconds more Police officers with guns had joined them on the roof. Another thing that she was aware of was that the Joker had gradually been dragging her backwards, her bare feet scraping across the hard concrete. Casting a glance over his shoulder, she saw that they were heading to the edge of the roof, to the low brick wall.

"_What are you doing_?" one of the cops screamed.

"Pick your feet up princess," The Joker hissed in her ear and she tried to wriggle away, "Now, now naughty, get up here,"

Nastily grabbing her hair so that she cried out, she shakily lifted her dress and climbed gingerly onto the brick wall. Her knees trembling and her feet cold, she gripped his shirt in fright. He laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder, pressing the blade to her throat.

Terrified, she saw the alley way below and nothing to break their fall.

"I'm going to fall Jack!" she cried, feeling faint.

He looked at her and kissed her cheek.

"Don't worry, Batman'll save us," he giggled.

"Prepare to fire!" one of the cops roared and Batman was on his feet.

"Here we go!" The Joker laughed and linked his arm around Amelia's waist, "Keep your eyes open!"

The last thing Amelia saw was Bruce's face as she was pulled and fell backwards. She heard the Joker laughing in her ear and felt the air whooshing through her hair.

Then she saw Batman lunge over the brick wall, his cape flying around him. She saw an object flying towards them and realised it was some kind of hook. It hooked the Joker's trouser leg and he halted mid air. His grip tightened on Amelia's waist as their combined weight and momentum on the line sent them crashing into the brick wall of the building they had fallen from.

Pain exploded in Amelia but she couldn't tell from where. It felt like she'd shattered every bone in her body and her chest hurt. She had hit her head on the wall of the building and was still dazed as they were being lowered to the ground.

Batman was the first on the ground and he lowered Amelia into his arms. The Joker fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

"You planned that!" Batman growled his voice still laced with agony from the stab wounds he'd received.

Amelia was breathless with fury. "You bastard…you could have killed us both!"

He giggled, still wriggling on the ground like a fish on a hook.

"I was thinking of Batman," he giggled, "The cops have been after him for months!"

"He wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you!"

She stopped mid sentence, seeing the blood on the Joker's shirt front.

"You…you're bleeding," suddenly she was weak, she felt icy cold.

The Joker sat up grabbing at his shirt front, looking at the fresh blood stain there.

Then he looked up at Amelia.

"No…_you_ are,"

Amelia stared down at herself. A wash of ice whipped up her legs, her heart almost stopping in her chest. She touched the hilt of the knife embedded up under her ribcage.

"Amelia..." Bruce caught her as she fell to the ground, "Oh Jesus…stay still OK?"

She laughed at the absurdity of the knife lodged under her breast bone, its gleaming hilt shining up at her. Her eyes filled with tears.

"It doesn't hurt," she insisted, her voice high pitched, "That's good isn't it?"

She felt numb, a strange crawling sensation creeping up her legs and she wanted to lie down. She was tired. Lying back in Bruce's arms she could feel the ice of the ground seeping through her flimsy costume.

Blood was congealing around the knife; it was sticky on her hands.

"Don't touch it," Bruce soothed, "God where are the police…"

From the other side of the wall they could hear the din of the music still going on inside the restaurant.

Bruce had been watching the Joker for the last few seconds and the clown still hadn't made a run for it. Instead he stood rooted to the spot, his eyes nervously darting from the knife protruding crudely from Amelia's chest to the Batman hunched protectively over her.

"When we hit the wall…" he muttered, lifting his fingers to his mouth to chew the nails there.

"What?" Batman growled angrily.

"We hit the wall…the knife…it must of…"

"Joker get out of here!" Batman said suddenly, unable to believe the words he was about to say, "You've got your chance, so GO! The cops'll be here any moment,"

The Joker ignored him and instead lowered himself to his knees by Amelia's body.

Amelia was fading away and she knew it. Panic rose up in her throat and she wanted to scream but she was too weak.

She could feel her heartbeat dying in her chest. Her eyes were filmy and her lips were blue.

"Jack," she whispered touching his shirt sleeve, "He's right. Go while you have the chance,"

The Joker licked his lips. "Is she going to die?" he directed his question at Batman, who was also weak from pain.

Amelia tried to force a smile. "No, no I'm not"

"It's not my fault, its not," his voice was painfully normal, like a regular man. Gone was the high pitched laughter and the sing song tone she was so used to.

Amelia reached out her hand to him.

"You need to go," she whispered.

Lights appeared in the alley way and the sound of the siren made both the Joker and Batman look up. Car doors opened and slammed and suddenly they were back to where they started, surrounded by cops.

"Go!" Batman hissed at him but The Joker didn't move.

His makeup was worn and cracked. Leaning closer to Amelia he pressed his mouth to hers and she closed her eyes, tears spilling over her dark lashes and wetting his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered against her lips.

"First and last kiss," she smiled weakly, delirious, she was finding it hard to think straight.

Bruce held her tighter, suddenly frightened.

"Help!" he called to the cops, "We need help, she's been stabbed!"

The Joker didn't move as paramedics ran and forced him out of the way. He didn't move as three cops with riffles surrounded him. He stood slowly and held his hands above his head. Two of the cops roughly grabbed his arms, dragging him to the police van that had pulled up.

Amelia watched, suddenly feeling very far away as The Joker was hauled into the van.

She closed her eyes, so, so tired.

"Bruce," she whispered.

Bruce held her closer as the night drew in around them.

"Amelia, please…I can't loose you too,"

"Bruce, listen to me," her voice was faint, "Don't ever stop what you're doing. I'm sorry that I never saw who you really were,"

"You always saw the real me," Bruce felt hot tears stinging his eyes. He felt suffocated under the Bat Mask and longed to pull it off, wishing she could say goodbye to his real face.

"Keep an eye on him," she said.

Bruce let out a cry of anguish as Amelia closed her eyes and drew on her last breath.

The Police van pulled away from the scene, heading out towards Arkham asylum.

From the back of the van, if only faintly, you could hear laughing.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Here it is, the last instalment. Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed, I have loved every minute of this! Xx**

**Death of a Ballerina**

Bruce stood on the steps of the chapel, waiting for the carriage to arrive. It seemed absurd that only a few weeks ago, he had stood in this very spot with Amelia, as they waited to bury her Mother.

Alfred had done a good job of keeping him motivated this last week, keeping his spirits up. He had avoided the hundreds of headlines that had been plastered over the papers this week.

But one had caught his eye on the way here this morning.

'**Gotham says Goodbye to its Fair Princess'**

That had hit him like a bullet in the chest and he'd found it difficult to control his temper.

"I can't believe that they are allowing that _freak _to come to the funeral!" he'd lashed out at Alfred, who was driving them here.

"Master Wayne," he'd spoke calmly, "That's out of your control,"

It was out of his control and that was what killed him, made him almost feverish with anger.

After The Joker had been readmitted to Arkham, Gordon had met with Batman in his office, one early morning before dawn.

"He is insisting that he will comply with any treatment we give him, provided that he can get a pass to come to Miss West's funeral,"

Batman growled angrily. "And you believe him,"

"I have to," Gordon looked tired, "He is starving himself to death. He refuses to move from his bed. But that is his one condition,"

"You don't think he'll use it as a chance to escape?" Batman questioned him.

Gordon shook his head. He'd visited Arkham nearly everyday since Amelia West died that night. The man who lay motionless on his hospital bed was not the same man who escaped a couple of weeks ago.

His makeup was gone, only white stains left on his clothing. His eyes were swollen and black. He refused all food and water and went into erratic convulsions every time a guard came near him.

"It's almost as if…The Joker, _whoever_ he was has died and someone else has been left behind,"

Batman sighed. He had always hoped somehow there would be a way of rehabilitating the Joker, but never this way. Not with this cost.

"You have a little more information on him now then you did before. You have his name and hopefully can trace his background through his father's police records?"

Gordon nodded.

"Harold Napier was a wanted felon and we can trace his movements back to before Jack Napier was even born. We can lay our hands on birth and death certificates, even marriage licenses. If anything good has come from Miss West's death, it was that she helped catch a killer,"

Bruce tried to keep that thought in his head as he watched the Police Van pull up to the church steps. The Joker had been refused a pass to the service but was able to attend the burial.

A small crowd had gathered there, mourners, photographers and little of what family Amelia had had left. Abbott West had been taken away in a car shortly after the emotional service, too distraught to watch his daughter's burial.

Bruce felt Alfred's warmth next to him, as four cops with guns escorted a man out of the back of the van. Bruce had to blink when he set eyes on Jack Napier.

Gordon wasn't kidding. Without makeup, that hideous mask, the man who glanced briefly at him before being ushered over to the grave site, was not the same man he'd battled with on the roof of the resteraunt.

The joker looked ill, pale and deathly thin. He was wearing a shabby grey suit that hung on him, obviously a last minute borrow from another patient in Arkham. His eyes were red rimmed, two large shadows laying beneath them, as though he lived without sleep.

Bruce followed the congregation to the gravesite and stood numbly next to Alfred.

Amelia's coffin was lowered slowly into the ground and Bruce felt his eyes well up.

Across the site, Jack Napier locked his eyes on him, his black stare making Bruce shift uncomfortably.

Bruce realised he was staring at the Joker's real face. Maybe on some level, Jack Napier had recognised him.

He hoped not.

"May hope and love go with Amelia into God's kingdom," the priest spoke tossing some dirt into the hole. Bruce flinched as it hit the coffin top.

"May she find everlasting peace and eternal beauty. We left behind will mourn her grace, her elegance and kindness, but take into our hearts the love and memories she gave us,"

One by one, each member of the congregation took a pure white sweet avalanche rose and tossed it into the hole.

Bruce watched Jack across the way, who didn't move, just stared back at him blankly.

Finally Jack took a rose and touched the delicate petals to his scared mouth; letting his eyes meet Bruce's stare one last time before throwing it in to the ground.

Bruce swallowed as The Joker was escorted back over to the van, to be transported back to Arkham.

"He's going back where he belongs sir," Alfred whispered to him as the van started up its engine, "You won't have to worry about that one for a while,"

Bruce folded his arms. The van pulled away.

"Give him time Alfred, give him time,"

**Six Months Later**

Bruce wrapped his coat tightly around him, the icy air whipping around him as he stepped on to the tarmac from the steps of his private jet.

There was a limo waiting for him and he hurried inside before the first droplets of snow began to fall from the leaden sky above.

"Where would you like to go Mr Wayne?" the driver asked from the front seat.

"Uhh, 54 Maple Avenue, the Metro district," Bruce read out the address that had been neatly written on the slip of paper.

The Driver made a face. "The Metro district sir?"

Bruce smiled. "That's what I said,"

The driver pulled away from the private landing strip, in a secluded section of Metropolis Airport, pondering what business the famous millionaire playboy would have in that unsavoury part of the city.

In the back of the car, Bruce closed his eyes, tiredness washing over him.

He hadn't slept well the last few nights, his nerves raw and on edge in preparation for this meeting.

He admired the Metropolis skyline from the limo window, thinking that every time he visited here, how he longed to buy an apartment that overlooked that stunning view. But today he was here for a very different reason.

After a short while the famous landmarks started to disappear as the driver took a road that ran alongside the docklands. It was a small forgotten community, on Metropolises' outskirts, but it was a perfect place to get lost. The limo passed by a small, modest school, apartment blocks and Bruce lost count of the amount of 'Closing Down Sale' signs that he saw on shop fronts.

Finally the driver took them up a slim avenue, littered with cars. They pulled up outside a red brick, two storey town house. The windows were bared, but Bruce noted the Roses in the Window boxes and knew that he had made the right choice.

"Do you want me to wait sir?" the driver asked nervously, knowing the kind of attention a black stretch limousine received in an area like this.

"I won't be long," Bruce promised.

He slammed the car door and turned, the front door of the house was already open.

There was a young woman standing in the door way.

Bruce's breath caught in his throat. Six months and she was so different!

Gone were her beautiful gold locks, replaced with a neat, dark bob. Gone were her designer clothes, her high heeled shoes. Instead she wore a plain red sweater and loose track suit pants, as though she'd just come from a work out.

Amelia smiled at him from the doorway, her eyes filling with tears.

Bruce held out his arms and she ran into them. He picked her up and kissed her cold face.

"God, you look different!" he sighed putting her back on the ground.

"Come on its freezing out here," she grabbed his hand, "Come and look around my humble abode,"

"It looks good!" Bruce admired her hard work. When he'd found the place six months ago, ramshackle was a nice way of describing it.

"How's the job?" he asked, following her slim form into the kitchen.

Amelia busied herself pouring tea and opening a pack of biscuits. She knew how she must look to him.

Yes, the hair and clothes were new, but she didn't recognise her own face these days. There was something different there, in her eyes. A sad, lost expression, barely hidden in her smile.

"The job is great!" she enthused, "The children are wonderful and I really think I can make a change here. Some of these girls had never even heard of ballet, let alone thought about dancing!"

Bruce grinned. "It's your perfect job,"

She leaned back against the kitchen counter and returned his sad smile.

"You look good…are you all healed, after..."

"Yes, my multiple stab wounds!" he laughed, knowing what she was angling towards, "I'm all good don't worry. Alfred sends his love,"

Amelia rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. "Oh, I miss him,"

"So what's life like? Being a regular girl?"

Amelia took a biscuit and dipped it in her tea.

"Its lonely sometimes," she whispered, "But after waking up in that ambulance…it was like a second chance, to start again. Amelia West died in that alley way. Sometimes I wish I could come back so much, I want to call dad and stop his pain…but I know I won't ever be free…of Jack,"

Bruce nodded in agreement. "If he ever found out you were alive…"

Amelia held up her hand. "I'm _not _changing my mind Bruce don't worry. It was the right choice…and besides I like my new life. I can be anyone I want to be,"

Bruce sipped his tea thoughtfully.

"I suppose you have him to thank for that," he said quietly.

Amelia touched his arm. "And _you_. Batman saved my life,"

They chatted for a while, laughing and joking, as if the past six months had never happened. Bruce couldn't ignore the tightening in his chest when he looked at her. That night, at the Ball, he _had _looked at her differently. She looked like someone he could spend his life with, someone he could love.

When they'd locked eyes on the roof and she'd recognised him, he'd known for sure. Amelia would be the support he needed. She could be the companion he'd so longed for in Rachel. When she saw Batman, she smiled and didn't turn away from him.

But that wasnt to be. Amelia belonged to someone else. It killed him to do this to her, to send her away from harm, out of his sight and protection but he knew that it was the only way she would survive. Terrible things happened to those Batman loved.

They were silent for a while and Bruce knew that the question was coming.

"How is Jack?" Amelia asked at last and Bruce folded his arms, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"They are trying a new type of drug on him…I don't hear things that often. But he seems to be responding well,"

"Hmm," Amelia mused, her lips pressed tightly together, "I don't know that you'll ever fully rehabilitate him. Too many scars,"

Bruce looked at his watch and knew that the time to go had quickly arrived. If he was spotted in this part of the city, questions would get asked that would only lead back to Amelia.

They walked silently to the doorway, both lost in thought, both knowing it would be a long, long time before they saw one another again.

Bruce caught sight of an unopened letter on the hallway table. The name on the address caught his eye and he picked it up, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Miss Rachel Bruce?" he grinned, reading the name and she snatched it away, blushing, knowing that he wasn't supposed to know her new name.

That was one of the conditions Gordon had stipulated when the three of them had discussed Amelia's fake death, in a private wing of the newly rebuilt Gotham General that fateful night.

"Why'd you pick that?" he laughed and she punched his shoulder.

"It's to remind me of the two people I loved best in the world. My best friends," she blushed, her eyes welling up and she was in his arms, "God, I miss you Bruce,"

He hugged her tightly; the time had come to ask a question of his own.

"Can I ask you something?"

She pulled away and nodded silently, her eyes curious.

"The night…you died. You said to the Joker, 'If he meant what he said earlier'. What did he say?"

Amelia stepped away, folding her arms. Just the thought of that night made her shiver.

The thought of Jack, his face and the longing in his eyes made her want to weep.

"He asked me to save him, Bruce,"

Bruce smiled sadly. "I suppose in a way, you did,"

After a while, his hand reached for the door handle.

Amelia watched him leave and blew him a silent kiss goodbye.

She wandered back into her living room, staring around the new home she'd created for herself.

She could never admit to Bruce that sometimes she'd been so close to calling Arkham. So close to just turning up on her Father's door step.

"_I'm here, I'm alive_," she wanted to scream.

She'd watched her own funeral on television from the private hospital room, healing from her injuries, the miracle that was her life, washing over her. The fact that she had survived was a gift and she didn't intend on wasting it.

She spotted him at the funeral, watching, that shabby grey suit hanging on his frame. How she had wanted to go to him. The pain in her heart was unbearable.

But she had a new life here. She was free of her past, free to make her own choices and her own mistakes.

Amelia went to her book shelf and ran her fingers along the dusty spines till she spotted the one she was looking for.

Jack Napier had walked uninvited into her childhood and remained there, her saviour, her forgotten first love. Then he returned to her, giving her back her lost memories and in turn asking to be saved from a monster he couldn't escape, himself.

She pulled out the book and looked at the front cover, blinking back fresh tears.

"The Brave Tin Soldier," she read aloud and pressed the book close to her chest.

Jack had asked her to save him that night on the roof. And in a way, she hoped that she had, the only way she could.

**Arkham Asylum**

The blonde haired woman smoothed pale pink lipstick on her mouth and checked her hair before taking the elevator down to the basement.

She wasn't sure why she had taken the time to redo her makeup before her appointment today.

The high heel stilettos that she had pulled out of her closet for the first time in months, clicked loudly as she walked down the darkened corridor to the prison wing, clutching her brief case tightly.

This was her sixth meeting with her client and finally he had begun to open up. He talked of his troubled childhood, his mother's suicide and his father's butchery.

She reached the cell door and nodded to the armed guard to open it.

The door groaned as it swung open and her patient, Jack Napier looked up at her with dead eyes. He was wearing an orange jump suit, his greasy blonde hair hung limply around his bare face, and he seemed to be gazing intently at an object in his hands. Seeing her enter, he tossed the object in a battered cardboard box in the corner of the cell.

He registered her new outfit, her long legs and she felt his admiration, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Well hello, Miss Harley," he grinned.

"Its _Doctor_Quinzell, Mr Napier," she corrected him, her voice shaky.

He frowned at the name.

"_Mr_ Napier was my father, Doctor Quinzell…and I'm _nothing_ like him,"

She forced a smile. "We can talk more about that during our session today,"

He shrugged, a giggle escaping his lips.

"What ever you say Doc," he stood and she admired again, how tall he was.

The guards pushed past her and took him by each arm, folding him into a straight jacket. He complied nicely, his grinning manic stare never leaving her face, until she felt so hot she had to look away.

The guards fastened him into the jacket and roughly pushed him out into the corridor.

Harleen held back for a moment and waited until she could hear his voice far down the corridor, giggling and bickering with the guards.

Curious, she reached for the cardboard box, anxious to see what he'd tossed away so hurriedly. She wrinkled her nose at the rest of his effects. A stained blanket, a tatty comic book and some crayons. Then she saw it sitting at the bottom corner of the box and reached in.

She pulled out the object and held it in the palm of her hand.

It was only meant for a child of about thirteen or fourteen, the fabric was faded and worn and she distinctly recognised a bloody thumb print on the material.

Shrugging her shoulders she tossed the object back in the box, feeling that there were many layers to the Joker's persona that she had to peel away and she wasn't even close to beginning.

She turned to leave and heaved the heavy door shut after her, not thinking about anything but the task ahead of her now. Jack Napier was going to be her new project and she had to admit that she was secretly excited and intrigued to what she might find under that caked on clown make up.

An hour later the Arkham Guards escorted Jack back to his cell. They striped the confining garment off him and he stretched out his arms.

"Lights out in five Napier," one of them called to him, swinging the door shut.

Jack crawled across the floor to his box that contained his personal effects and reached in his hand.

He pulled out the pale pink ballet slipper and gazed down at it, running his thumb along the toe like a caress.

_"I wish we could go back," _he heard her voice in his head.

He crawled under the blanket on his bed and tucked the slipper under his chin, then the guards turned out the light and all was black.

Fin.


End file.
